Never Alone
by The Emerald Blight
Summary: For over 400 years I was caged. Bound behind ice and stone. Now, I run free. Throughout western fields and golden mountains. I am the Dread Wolf of Hearthstone, Wolf of the West. Stand with me, or fear my coming. For I am Never Alone. WerewolfOC!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own the collective works of Van Helsing, Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or anything that may come into the following **Fan made** piece of fiction. This is meant for enjoyment alone.

"By the words of my house know that I am Never Alone." speech.

'_wow, I didn't think stupidity could come in such a small package as that Joffrey cunt._' thought/flashback monologuing.

"█▄▄██▄▄▄██▄▄█" Wolf howl/roar/etc.

**A/N:**

**this is just the prologue to one of our new stories that is in the works along a few others. As a result of working on a number of different ideas at the same time this is going to be a slow burn fic. Enjoy the tease that this chapter is and hopefully it is well received for more future updates.**

**FYI: good reception is judged based on review numbers. More reviews means more focus goes toward pumping out chapters sooner than the others.**

_XxxXxxXxxX_

_Do you know the last time I felt the warmth of the sun on my face? The breeze through my hair? I cannot. Too long have I been trapped here, in the light-less bowels of a castle I have never seen in a land I do not know. My tormentor told me of his amusement in that you have lost your memories of the life you once shared with us long ago. I almost envy you; to be free of the knowledge of your long life while I am forced to endure my own existence with an ever growing memory of this cursed cell._

_We were all young men once before. You Gabriel Van Helsing, my good friend Vlad Tepes and myself; Lucian of Romania a simple lowborn Knight. We shared such incredible adventures as we served the Holy Order of Knights in our fight against the forces of Evil. We travelled far across Europe from exotic Constantinople to beautiful France; slaying monsters and exposing witches to the fires of The Lord. But when my mentor, my friend Vlad found love and had that love ripped from him, I did not abandon him as our fellows did. As you did._

_I helped my friend. Against the Will of God, against our Order and against what was good I helped him try to bring back the woman he loved to the living._

_I knew it to be wrong, it was a blasphemous act to even consider playing with such hellish magic. But for my dear friend; my mentor, for the loyalty and trust he had placed in me, how could I not return it in kind._

_All for nothing in the end. Failure was our result. Hindered and ultimately stopped by you and the other Knights of the Holy Order. And monstrous was our punishment. I remember that moment clear as I see you now before me Gabriel; the sight of your sword thrust through his heart. The betrayed anguish in Vlad's eyes as the life left him._

_And I remember the monster that returned to wear his skin. After that, I can remember only rage._

_My punishment from God Himself it seems. I was not put to death by the Order. The terrible arrival of the fearsome Dracula stopped such a thing. Instead; my fate was decided by the Lord of Heaven Himself._

_And what a cruel punishment it has proven to be._

_The only thing that may truly kill this Vampire King; this Count Dracula. Is the bite of his most loyal friend. The bite of a Werewolf. I remember only the agony of my bones breaking, flesh tearing and skin sloughing away as the beast of my curse tore its way out of the man I once was. And then my mind went dark. Buried beneath the raging fires of a monsters instincts. The hunger. The savagery. The blood-lust._

_When I finally awoke, I woke to find myself crucified to a cliff-side; thick iron spikes impaled through my arms, legs and chest. And the great and fearsome monster Count Dracula standing before me, wings stretched out like the very cloak of the Devil himself and blood dripping from his a savage grin._

_This was not my friend. Vlad truly did die that day four hundred years ago. You did your duty well Gabriel. My friend truly died and a demon has since taken his place._

_Do you know what it is like? To be trapped within Hell, locked away like an animal to be brought out at the amusement of a monster. To be forced to fight and kill; monster and man alike simply because this Overlord is bored. To force upon other men my terrible curse who in turn must serve this devil as nothing more than an attack dog? I have witnessed men beyond my ability and tolerance to count; beg and plead to their God for mercy and salvation only to feel the damnation of my bite. I have heard the screams and suffering of that first frightening transformation and the hungry howls that followed._

_When I heard of your presence in Transylvania; that a hunter by the name of Van Helsing had arrived to destroy this spawn of Satan I dared not to hope. When I learned that this Van Helsing was truly my old comrade and fellow Knight Gabriel I feared that even you would fail. How could you beat this monster when you lacked the vital weapon determined by God to truly overcome such evil?_

_But now, I see you. I smell you. I feel my curse upon you. It will not be as powerful as it would had I been the one to bite you, but strong enough to possibly stand against Dracula's power. But please, I beg you; heed my warning Gabriel. The first time man becomes beast; you will face more than the Vampire Lord of this keep. The very mind of the monster you have become will fight against you. Do not fight it. Accept it. You are he and he is you. Do not resist the change nor fear its power. Focus your mind instead on what lay before you. What you wish do destroy. Focus on Dracula._

_It is true that a cure to this curse resides within these halls. A contingency should one of my cursed should prove to wilful for his control. It will purge the wolf and leave the man. But only so long as you administer it within minutes of the transformation. Wait too long and it will be too late; the curse will have taken root._

_Allow me to offer you this: remember yourself. Remember who you are, what you are, why you fight, why you live and who you love. Do not lose yourself to the instincts of the wolf. Remember you are Gabriel Van Helsing and not a simple animal. And it is my hope that you will return to not mourn the lives of your friends by your side._

_Go._

_I can feel the power of Dracula's experiment growing. Whatever it is he plots; it is nearing its peak and soon you may find yourself out of time. Go my friend, do as you have always done and what I had not the courage to do. Save them all. And avenge those of us you could not._

_Remember. The Wolf is nothing without the Man._

_XxxXxxXxxX_

It was like the earth was tearing itself apart so great was the shaking of the castle walls. Stone masonry fell from walls and ceilings ad sections of flooring gave way around him as he ran.

Lucian; former Knight of the Holy Order, First of the Werewolves and prisoner of Castle Dracula had been surprised when the shade of his comrade Van Helsing had released him from his cell. The hunter had warned him; run as far from this place as he could and do not give him cause to hunt another Werewolf. Lucian had not expected it. Gabriel never would have opened the cell to let him go free. No the old Gabriel would have either left him there to die or opened the cell door just so he could execute him personally.

Van Helsing's friar friend had cautioned against it; nervous at the idea of releasing such an old and potentially powerful monster out into the world but the man and his lady companion had not accepted it. His heartfelt words and plea had reached them both.

It was an almost muted sense of relief and satisfaction when he heard and felt the shrieks and howls of the transformed Gabriel fighting Dracula overhead. The heavy screeches of tearing metal and crack of breaking stone sounding almost musical to him when coupled with the pained screeching of the Vampire.

He had used the distraction to explore deeper in the heart of Castle Dracula; searching for supplies and resources to take with him when he returned to Transylvania. The halls were void of life; the many servants of the Count all tending to their master whims in the higher levels where the fighting was taking place. This permitted him easy access to and freedom to raid Dracula's personal library.

Dracula had collected a great deal of knowledge over the centuries since his 'birth' four hundred years ago. The world had advanced a great deal and while from the look of some of the tomes and books in his collection hinted at a far more advanced civilisation than Lucian was familiar with; he took only what he could understand and find familiarity with. A closely located storehouse supplied a sturdy trunk to store his acquisitions within along with some basic supplies and, mercifully, a change of clothes.

There was no time to rip away the rags he had been wearing for the past four hundred years to change into something, well, cleaner, as the castle had started violently shaking by that point.

The silence before hinted that Van Helsing may have succeeded and it seemed that with the death of its master; the castle was no longer capable of holding itself together.

Gabriel, his friends and the anomaly that had joined them up at the top of the castle had since departed. Their scent was growing steadily weaker. But it was still strong enough to follow so as to allow Lucian to track and discover how they had escaped.

With the heavy trunk resting up on hist shoulder and supporting it with one arm, the man loped back down to the ground level of the castle and found his way to the entrance hall. Its great doors had been knocked free; dislodged and shattered by two floors above. Only a small gap of white light and drifting snow showed the way to freedom through the rubble. Only a part of the man acknowledged the emotion of seeing the light and feeling snow against his bare chest after squeezing through the gap and stepping out into the fresh air for the first time in centuries.

The scent he was following was swept away by the gale force winds but thankfully the path Gabriel and his party had carved through the snow had not quite yet filled in.

the thunderous sounds of collapsing stonework and shattering rock filled the air behind him as the castle continued to collapse, towers and wings breaking free from the structure to crush lower sections or even break free entirely to crash deep into the snow and ice and shatter the solid rock beneath.

It took only a few minutes for the Werewolf to reach the end of the path where he found a large gleaming mirror of ice and steel. Shimmering almost like a pool of water instead of a solid object. Whatever powerful magic fuelled its function was failing just as Castle Dracula had as Lucian saw a steadily growing flicker to its form; the dull grey of stone appearing with growing frequency. He could not wait nor take the time to permit caution in this.

With the resolve that had come to him over the course of centuries of the desire to endure and live in spite of his imprisonment, Lucian threw himself through the portal. Into the mirror-door that failed a instant later to show nothing but the solid rock of the cliff it had been carved into.

On the other side of this doorway, in a matching mirror deep within Transylvania at Valarious Castle; nothing emerged. Van Helsing, his close friend Friar Carl, new found friend in Frankenstein's monster and realized love Anna Valarious only watched as the mirror shifted back into a large detailed map of the country.

Lucian was never seen again.

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N:**

**this is just the prologue to one of our new stories that is in the works along a few others. As a result of working on a number of different ideas at the same time this is going to be a slow burn fic. Enjoy the tease that this chapter is and hopefully it is well received for more future updates.**

**FYI: good reception is judged based on review numbers. More reviews means more focus goes toward pumping out chapters sooner than the others.**


	2. A Wolf in Westeros

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own the collective works of Van Helsing, Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or anything that may come into the following **Fan made** piece of fiction. This is meant for enjoyment alone.

"By the words of my house know that I am Never Alone." speech.

'_wow, I didn't think stupidity could come in such a small package as that Joffrey cunt._' thought/flashback monologuing.

"█▄▄██▄▄▄██▄▄█" Wolf howl/roar/etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

Previously:

_With the resolve that had come to him over the course of centuries of the desire to endure and live in spite of his imprisonment, Lucian threw himself through the portal. Into the mirror-door that failed an instant later to show nothing but the solid rock of the cliff it had been carved into._

_On the other side of this doorway, in a matching mirror deep within Transylvania at Valarious Castle; nothing emerged. Van Helsing, his close friend Friar Carl, new found friend in Frankenstein's monster and realised love Anna Valarious only watched as the mirror shifted back into a large detailed map of the country._

_Lucian was never seen again._

XxxXxxXxxX

**262 A.C**

It was, warm.

That was the first thing he registered when he fell to the earth in a flash of light and shower of ice and snow. The trunk he had taken with him from Castle Dracula crashed down a few feet from him with a solid thud, its craftsmanship easily weathering the impact.

For Lucian, whom had spent over four hundred years deep within the dungeons of the Vampire Lord far from the warmth of natural light, the bright sunlight was biting to his eyes, forcing the ragged man to clench them shut and bite back a wince as he reached out to clamp his hands over his head to fight back the bright stabbing pain.

It took some doing, squinting through barely parted fingers, to find some measure of shade and shelter from the sunlight. A large, ancient tree provided that relief and Lucian stumbled over to it blindly to half collapse against its trunk and slide down to the ground. To any normal human it would have taken days to make the adjustment to the light. So long spent in darkness to be pushed out into the midday sunlight there was no way any regular mortal could make the transition with any ease.

For him, one who had been stolen from his mortality by the curse that had caused his once dear friend to turn against him and cage him like an animal; it took a mere fraction of the time. Within a few minutes the pain of the light had subsided enough for him to remove his hands from his face. Another ten minutes following that and he was soon squinting carefully, biting back a hiss of pain as he forced his eyes to adjust through the lingering torment.

A half an hour later since his arrival in this place and Lucian was looking around at the beautiful landscape of golden browns, reds and oranges of autumn trees and rolling grass. He couldn't help it; a wide, tearful smile stretched across his face as he took in the land that was his freedom. The crisp wind brushed against his skin; slipping under the mouldy and torn tunic that was barely together enough to cover his chest. A moment later and it wasn't as Lucian ripped it off him, stretching his arms out wide as he dropped the torn clothing to enjoy the air against his skin.

Taking in a deep breath the Werewolf frowned when he was reminded of his own, particularly foul, odor. It had been something he had long since been able to ignore during the centuries of captivity. The smell of his own body had blended in with the cell. Out here however, with the fresh air and the natural smells of the surrounding wilderness as a comparison, he _reeked_.

Walking over to where his trunk had fallen, he easily picked it up with one hand and hefted it up to rest on a shoulder before turning around to examine his surroundings. Ruling out the scent coming from himself he was able to pick up the barely recognisable smell of water and set off in what he believed to be east and downhill from what seemed to be the foot of a great mountain range.

Lucian didn't travel with any sense of expediency. He was in no hurry to get to his destination and had nothing pressing to push him in haste. He took the time to enjoy the sights and sounds of his newfound freedom. He truly did owe Gabriel for freeing him.

There was, however one problem that he was starting to take note of as he travelled in the direction of the river he could smell.

The mirror portal that he had passed through. The same one that Gabriel and his companions had used to come to Castle Dracula and used to escape back to Romania. It should have brought him to the same location as them. He should have emerged from the other side to see the Hunter and his friends if not waiting for him then at least within range of his senses. But that was not the case. He could not hear, see nor smell any hint of humanity in the area nor did the geography match what he could remember of Eastern Europe.

Not that it mattered to be honest. Even if the portal had cast him far from Europe, maybe into Africa or deep into Asia, there was nothing for him back home. After so long both Mother and Father had long since passed into death and any legacy of their name would have long since died with them. If anything it was preferable this way. So far in the unknown the likelihood of The Holy Order dispatching someone like Gabriel to track him down and succeeding were highly unlikely to the point of impossibility.

A new life. It was, welcome.

At his slow, steady pace, it took a few hours to find his way to the banks of wide river. Again there were no signs of civilisation or human presence in the area, no hunting trails or structures near the river. So after setting his sole possession in the shade of a nearby tree, Lucian took a running leap into the river, diving headfirst into the cool, refreshing water with a loud splash.

The remnants of his ratty clothing were torn off and tossed back up to the river bank in short order. He spent quite some time swimming in the river. Scrubbing the filth out of his matted hair and beard and cleaning at his body as best he could. While it took time to scrub the filth, dirt and even dried blood off his body that had accumulated over the centuries, soon enough the reasonably clean former Knight was lazily floating on his back in the river, eyes closed as he took in the peace and gentle sounds of the river and birds that sang overhead heedless of his nudity.

His enjoyment soon came to an end when a shift in the pit of his stomach reminded him of something that he had become quite used to ignoring in his time at Castle Dracula: hunger.

Swimming over to the riverbank, Lucian climbed out of the river and up to his feet, casting his gaze around. The 'ever hospitable' Count had not been all that concerned with making sure that his 'pet' was well fed and so it was not often that Lucian had been able to feed his stomach. But now, he wasn't bound under such conditions. He could feed his hunger accordingly; provided he could find food.

Sucking in a deep breath Lucian centered himself before rolling his shoulders. The midday sun was no Full Moon and would prevent one of his blood from shifting and hunting in wolf form. But he was no newborn pet of Dracula. He was the First. He was old. He _was_ the Wolf.

A sharp crack snapped out from his body as the shift started, a grimace crossing his face as he felt his spine break and rapidly change shape, his muscles twisting and growing as the man was peeled away to reveal the wolf beneath. Literally as his skin shed from his body to reveal pitch black fur beneath. His arms bulged and thickened and his fingers cracked as razor sharp claws grew from his nails. His face twisted as his skull changed form and a muzzle grew out, gleaming white fangs growing in place of his teeth and his steel grey eyes glowed briefly before settling as the change came to its conclusion.

As quick as it came the man that was Lucian was gone, leaving a monstrous bipedal wolf, looming at nearly ten feet in height with black fur as dark as a moonless night.

Dropping down to all fours briefly, Lucian shook his body, shaking off the river water still clinging to him, before stretching out his limbs, loosening his arms and legs as he familiarised himself with his form. Letting out a barking cough to clear his throat, the wolf shook his head with a sneeze to clear his nose.

With the lingering stiffness and kinks of the transformation gone from his body, Lucian took in a deep breath and with it the varying smells of the woodland he was in.

Several birds; small, flighty. All fleeing from the riverbank at the terror his transformation inspired. Rabbits, cowering in warrens for similar reasons. Too small to be worth his time digging them out.

Ah, there! Deer.

Too far away to have sensed the sudden appearance of a predator by the result of his transformation and upwind of him so unable to catch his scent. A savage mockery of a grin formed when his lips pulled back to expose his fanged maw. Venison sounded good.

With one last glance back to his trunk, senses taking note of the location with sight, smell and his own internal compass, Lucian crouched; muscles coiling tightly before leaping forward into a dead sprint, his pulse racing with excitement as the thrill of the hunt came over him swiftly.

Time to eat.

XxxX

The cabin room shook, jostling the four occupants; a grown woman clad in finery and riches that only the highest and wealthiest of nobility could afford with her Handmaiden and two newborn infants, as the Wheel House the three were in hit and ran over a small divot in the road. The jarring movement woke the youngest of the twins, eliciting a cry from him as he voiced his displeasure at being awoken clearly and loudly.

The noble woman; known to all in the Westerlands as Joanna Lannister, Lady-wife of the Warden of the West cooed to her baby as she scooped him up from his bassinet to cradle to her bosom.

To her everlasting joy the Lady of Casterly Rock had given birth to her children just two months past. Blessed with twins; a boy to carry on the legacy of her Lord-husband and a girl to raise under her own care, Joanna had wasted no time in ordering preparations to be made for the journey to King's Landing so she could present her beloved with his newborn children.

Her Lord-Husband; Tywin Lannister; Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West had been absent from their home for some time. Called by Aerys Targaryen the King of the Seven Kingdom's to serve as Hand of the King when her Good-Father Tytus Lannister had still ruled as Warden of the West during the early days of their union. Because of this duty and the demands of the still relatively newly crowned King, Tywin had been forced to devote most of his time to Kings Landing with only able to return to Casterly Rock rarely to maintain his place as heir to the Westerlands and to tend to her; his Lady-wife.

It was only the third year into King Aerys' rule and to her own personal sorrow Tywin's visits home could still be counted by hand. Even the Rayne Rebellion two years previous had seen Tywin only in the Westerlands long enough to put it down and take up his place as Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of the West from his father before Aerys called for his Hand to return to King's Landing.

Truth to be told, were it not for the birth of her children and her want to present them to their father, she would not be making the journey to King's Landing. The overall state of the place aside she could not stomach the very thought of stepping foot into the Red Keep and the presence of the King. To stand under his leering gaze knowing; most likely due to his clearly vocal comments, his desires to bed her. That the King would continue to make such thoughts clear for all to hear in the presence of his own Hand; her Husband, was beyond the pale.

She was quite content remaining in the Westerlands, far from the smell of the King's city and the King himself.

As for the journey itself, it was long and uncomfortable even after a month of travel from Casterly Rock and having only passed Deep Den which marked merely the first third of the overall trip. It was a blessing itself that the Gold Road that connected Casterly Rock and King's Landing was paved as it is. Joanna shuddered to think of how difficult an ordeal it would have proven to be had she been forced to take any of the other roads. Like the King's Road that connected to The North; rock, dirt and filled with holes from rainfall.

According to Ser Cyrus Kenning; the Knight in charge of her protective detail, they were still expected to be on the road for a further six weeks if the weather held as it was.

The crying of little Jaime faded as the infant fell back asleep; lulled by his mother's warmth and drew Joanna out of her musings as she gazed down at his sleeping face with the loving fondness only a mother could know.

"Rest now my Little Lion. The world will hear your roar soon enough."

XxxX

It had been nearly three weeks since he had come to this new place. Nearly three weeks of wonderful, glorious freedom with no darkness and monsters to weigh down on him with their own cruelty and vile machinations to force upon him.

And Lucian was loving every moment of it. He had not felt the need to explore out of the woodland he had first arrived in. There was no great desire to find any signs of civilisation or even to determine where in the world he had appeared. There were no responsibilities that required him anywhere. Whatever form the Holy Order had taken after four hundred years would no classify him as just another monster to hunt and destroy. His family had long since perished to time and the only friend he had ever known had long since become a monster to his memory and was now dead. There was literally nowhere he had to be.

However. That all being said. He was drawing close to becoming bored. The first week had been a wonderful period of enjoying the open environment; hunting and swimming and sleeping on the grass beneath the stars.

After several days of that he had poured through the stolen contents of the massive chest he had brought with him from Castle Dracula; sorting through the leather bound tomes he had taken from the Vampire's extensive library and the assortment of clothing, and some smithing tools that had caught his eye.

Over the course of the following days that had brought him up to the two and a half weeks since his escape of Castle Dracula, Lucian had poured through a few of his newly acquired books; reading up on smithing techniques and methods that he had once known intimately from his childhood growing up in Romania under his father who had been a Blacksmith of some renown.

It had been a point of pride for his family that they had learned and mastered forging techniques that allowed for the successful smelting and forging of Damascus grade steel. In fact it had been this skill that had seen his family being contracted by the Holy Order for armaments. The very same relationship that had brought the man who would become the Lord of all Vampires to his door to make a young Lucian his Squire.

Lucian had only just now finished repacking the chest earlier that morning; intent on moving away from the river he had been camped out by for that time. Freedom was all well and good but there was only so much one could have before boredom set in and drove one to go out and do something, _anything. _Lucian had enjoyed his time to laze around in the sunlight and stare up at the stars at night. But he could not tolerate the inactivity for much longer.

He had found a pair of pants to replace the rags he had been forced into during his captivity, a bit tight given his overall build was larger than that of Dracula's to whom the clothing had been tailored for originally.

He had spent his time completely naked before but the understanding of public decency and the fact that he was intending on seeking out civilisation meant that he required to actually wear the clothing he had brought with him.

The shirts he had found were too tight to fit across his broad chest; something he had found out after ripping three after squeezing into them. There was a long coat that he had found and brought with him but given the fate that had befallen the shirts, he wasn't about to destroy the rich leather it was made from; instead making a point to remember to have it brought to a tailor if he could find one to have it refitted for someone his size.

With the trunk repacked, Lucian had taken the shirts he had inadvertently destroyed and tied them together to wrap up a leftover haunch of deer meat from his latest kill. With that hanging from a belt at his waist, the man heaved the trunk up and rested it on a shoulder before turning away from the river.

A deep breath in to take in the surrounding smells and, just as the countless times before, found no indications of nearby human life. With a mental shrug at the lack of help in picking a direction, Lucian headed south. With any luck if he stayed relatively close to the foot of the mountains he might come across a settlement.

XxxX

Joanna did her best to ignore the weeping of her handmaiden; who was cowering on the floor of the Wheel House in fear and leaving her Lady to remain seated on the carriage's comfortable velvet lined cushioned seats. Thankfully both Jaime and Cersei were asleep; undisturbed by the shouting, screaming and truthfully frightening sounds of combat that were raging just outside. While in truth Joanna herself was afraid, rightfully so, it did not cause her to blubber and wail like a child as she looked through the narrow gap of her window to watch, helplessly, as her guards were overwhelmed and losing ground against a large force of Bandits that had ambushed the caravan.

It had been two and a half weeks since the procession had left Deep Den when the Wheel House had suffered an accident. One of the wheels had splintered and broken off its axle; most likely a result of the rough conditions of the stone cobbled road according to Ser Cyrus who had informed her of the delay.

The coachman had, with the aid of a servant that had been brought along to see to the needs of herself and the guard detail, quickly gotten to work in repairing and replacing the broken wheel to resume the journey when they had fallen under attack.

While to her own eye, the ambush had struck with the swiftness and force of a planned attack, Joanna knew it had to be an attack of opportunity given that it had been the breaking of one of the wheels of the Wheel House that had provided the opening for their ambush.

From her limited view, the Lady of House Lannister was able to see to her own horror as, while the Bandits paid for it twice, even three times over, her guards fell one after the other. Ser Cyrus had been the latest to fall in death; valiantly defending the Wheel House and personally slaying six bandits before being overwhelmed and killed.

A guard detail of ten Lannister men consisting of seven infantry and two experienced Knights under the command of Ser Cyrus Kenning brought down to maybe one or two guards and a single Knight from what she could see. And there were still nearly two dozen bandits surrounding the Wheel House.

A tear fell from her eye as the fear of what was to come hit her. The fear of what these men would do to not only her, but her children.

And by the jeering and mocking laughter of the brigands as they took down another of her guard; they all were thinking about it as well.

How could such a force of criminals have gone unnoticed like this so close to the Gold Road? It was the single most patrolled road in the entire Seven Kingdoms. Watched over by men of the Westerlands loyal to the Lannister name and men of the Crownlands loyal to the Iron Throne. It might have been within the realm of belief for small bands of perhaps half a dozen or a dozen at most to escape notice if they avoided the road and chose to attack traders that travelled along back roads to the smaller neighboring holds, but for a band of this size to attack along the Gold Road itself?

The terror had almost mounted high enough within the young noblewoman that she very nearly missed the movement in the trees beyond the Bandits. With a blink and wipe of her hands against her eyes to clear the tears that she feared were obscuring her vision to cause her to see phantoms, Joanna's eyes widened when she saw him.

A massive man, towering in size and powerfully muscled from what she could see with his bare chest on display, charging forward. With a heavy beard and long tangled black hair, the new arrival looked as savage as the stories she had heard of the Dothraki across the Narrow Sea. Clad in only a pair of black leather pants with his broad, muscled chest bare to the world and steel grey eyes burning with an almost primal rage, Joanna watched in awe as he grabbed one of the bandits that had been firing arrows from the treeline.

With impressive strength that seemed impossible for even the strongest of men, the savage man lifted the unfortunate bandit up over his head before letting out a roar as he upended the man and slammed him head first into the ground, breaking the brigands neck cleanly.

The kill and roar of the man alerted the remaining bandits of the new threat and turned to him.

By the time their focus had properly shifted to the unexpected and hostile arrival, Joann had watched in wide eyed awe as the hulking man had ripped off a thick low hanging branch and thrown it like a spear at another bandit, impaling clean through the man's chest.

XxxX

Lucian had been on the move for several hours by this point. Enjoying the gentle singing of birds and the rustling of leaf blown by the wind, when his eyes narrowed and lips curled up to expose teeth.

Blood.

It was thick in the air, being carried to him by the wind from South-west. It had been quite some time since he had smelt this, going back to shortly before Dracula had succeeded in hunting him down four years after he had become a Vampire and Lucian a Werewolf.

Human Blood.

Judging solely on how powerful the scent was the man was able to easily deduce that not only was the source of the scent close, but far too much blood had been spilt for even one man. And then came the second scent, brought to him by the wind. Fear. It was an unusual scent, unique in that it was beyond the capabilities of a human to detect. But to him, a predator of the highest order, it was as clear and distinct as the blood that preceded it.

It was not the Wolf that answered the call of blood and fear. Lucian did not hunger for human flesh like his old friend had for their blood. No it was the Knight within him that rose up; a part that he had long since thought destroyed to time and suffering.

It rose up in righteous fury, somehow _knowing_ that this was not the fear of a soldier, but the fear of an innocent.

With a snarl, Lucian tightened his hold on the chest perched atop his shoulder and broke forward into a dead sprint, easily reaching and outpacing the speed of any athlete and into the swiftness of a warhorse at full charge.

It took at most ten minutes to reach the source of bloodshed and fear and when his eyes found it, the trunk he was carrying dropped to the ground he clenched his fists and grit his teeth in rage. A carriage, larger than those he had seen before in his homeland and from the looks of its design and the state of the horses tied to it, meant for long distance travel, richly decorated with gold embellishments on carefully red stained wood. It appeared to have broken down, one of its wheels being absent with a set up and spare wheel knocked over giving sign to a repair having been underway. Surrounding the carriage were a number of bodies. Well over a dozen rough looking men clad in mismatched armor of leather and rusted chain-mail with a mere handful of dead bodies clad in rich red and golden armor; most likely the guardsmen for the carriage who had died defending whomever it was that occupied it.

Lucian had arrived just in time to see another of the red and golden guards be slaughtered, run through by a trio of bandits that had been able to disarm the man before thrusting their own swords through his chest. When that death caused a burst of fear to hit him from the carriage, Lucian's grey eyes widened a fraction when he saw a terrified face peering through a cracked open window, terrified green eyes watching with the kind of fear that only a doomed soul could know.

When he saw that Lucian responded with all the righteous fury that he felt both as a former Knight of the Holy Order and as a Wolf. Sparing not a thought to the chest he had dropped, Lucian charged forward, arms already outstretched as he came up behind an archer that was firing on the carriage. Before the fool had even the time to register that he was being attacked, Lucian had grabbed the man by the back of the neck and the seat of his pants to lift him high up in the air; well above his six foot eight tall frame before, with a powerful wolf like roar, flexed his muscles and slammed the man as hard as he could head first into the ground. The sounds of breaking bones that snapped out of the corpse like was akin to the breaking of several branches simultaneously as the bandit died instantly from a broken neck and caved in skull followed by his spine shattering.

The noise he had made had drawn the attention of those closest to their fellow that had just been murdered and turned to face him. Lucian didn't bother waiting for their readiness nor did he waste time announcing himself. Chivalry was not something these men deserved.

Instead he half turned to the tree at his left and grabbed the lowest hanging branch. As wide and thick as his thigh, he tore it off before spinning around and launching it at the next closest bandit. Despite the crooked and twisted shape of the tree limb and the leaves that still covered it, the makeshift weapon shot true to impale clean through the man; going right through the stomach to sick out his back a good two feet.

With two very much dead, Lucian turned his sights on his next targets. The three that had killed that young guardsman that he had witnessed moments ago.

He could see and even smell a modicum of fear wafting out from them, but despite that they all still readied themselves and raised their blades.

He did not allow them to regain momentum.

Lowering his body, Lucian threw himself into a charge, feet pounding at the ground that had the three bandits flinching at the sound of each heavy thud as he advanced at speed. In the time it took those brigands to advance toward him ten feet he had cross the other fifty.

The first bandit died quickly and almost immediately upon contact with the brutal werewolf.

First clenched tightly, Lucian snapped out a devastating punch to the middle bandit.

The blow connected directly over the heart of the bandit who in return heaved out the air in his lungs with a wheeze. Before dropping to the ground dead. His heart having stopped from the force of the blow even as his ribs snapped like dried twigs from the powerful punch.

The sudden death of their comrade and the obvious power behind this half naked stranger caused a moment of hesitation in the other two, allowing for Lucian to reach down and snatch up the rusted sword dropped by the bandit he had just killed. A pivot and backhanded swing decapitated another even as his free hand snapped out to grab the third by the throat. With a snarl, the black haired man tore the rusted edge of his pilfered blade through the last bandits stomach before lifting the sword and the victim up. Gurgling as blood spewed out of his mouth the Bandit died with an expression of pure terror on his face as his organs spilled out of the hole sliced into his stomach as the blade slid up to his chest from the weight of his own body.

Tossing the body off his sword to the side with the careless abandon of someone discarding trash, Lucian fixed his gaze upon the bandit that was closest to the carriage. Several of his fellows were still nearby; ten of their number circling around from the other side of the carriage but they were all ignored as Lucian advanced toward him in particular.

Five bodies in, Lucian made for a terrifying sight in the eyes of the bandit he was approaching. Blood caked the blade in his hand to the point where not a speck of rust could be seen along its edge any more and the life fluid was dripping from his forearms and streaking down his bare chest from the blood spray from the earlier decapitation. The Werewolf's nose twitched when he smelled the man piss himself and allowed a savage grin to cross his face when the bandit retreated back a few steps, shaking that much that he actually dropped his axe out of fear alone.

Along with his fellows, the bandits had been able to not only catch the guard detail of a Lannister off guard and by surprise, but they had been able to decimate the protection surrounding the noble that was doubtlessly cowering within the Wheel House. They had taken casualties, arms and armor combined with training were vastly in the favor of the Lannister men. But numbers had proven the greater advantage allowing the bandits to win in terms of casualties.

But this man. This monster. He had arrived out from nowhere and within moments had ruthlessly and brutally butchered five of them. Three of which had been done so without a weapon in hand.

Stumbling back in fear, the bandit tripped over a body and fell back to the ground. Scrambling back and over the corpse he had tripped over and trying to find a weapon, _any weapon!_

When a shadow passed over him and blocked the sunlight from him, the bandit looked up and very nearly shit himself in addition to having already pissed his trousers when he saw that giant of a man looming over him, those cold grey eyes peering down at him as if here were nothing more than a particularly annoying rat that had scurried in his path.

"Run."

It came out softly, barely a growl within a breath. But to the terrified bandit. Lucian may as well have screamed at him.

With a scream of his own, voice cracking under the sheer volume of terror that filled every part of him, the bandit scrambled up to his feet and took off as if The Stranger himself had come to Westeros.

That scream. That fleeing man was the tipping point. The sight of all that death and the expressions of fear in the faces of the bandits that had witnessed the swift yet savage slaughter was enough to break the will of even those who had not seen what Lucian was capable of. Still technically outnumbering Lucian and the surviving Knight and two guardsmen three to one, the fear Lucian had instilled was too insurmountable to overcome and they fled. Discarding weapons and makeshift shields in favor for a lighter load to flee all the faster.

Lucian paid no attention to the three surviving soldiers that regrouped close to him; the Knight in plate armor of reds and golds and two lighter armored and equipped men. Instead he kept his gaze fixed upon the fleeing criminals. Staring at them like a starving predator as if briefly contemplating hunting them all down.

In the end he shook his head to clear the blood-thirst away and dropped the sword in his hand to turn back to the carriage, his expression softening to one more welcoming and gentle.

"The threat is gone. Are you unharmed?"

There was a near silent whisper from within the carriage; fearful and desperate sounding as someone within, female from the pitch, urged against opening the door. But they were ultimately ignored as with a soft creak and with tentative caution, the door opened.

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N**

**alright then. This marks the first official chapter going into 'Never Alone.' apart from the Prologue of course.**

**A few things going in that we believe should be acknowledged in regards to this story. Apart from what we look up via the internet, we are completely ignorant as to the details of Blacksmithing and everything involved. If we make mistakes sure let us know if you want but apart from that don't expect much I guess.**

**Now for details regarding timeframe and such. For the most part the timeline of Game of Thrones is being considered and used instead of the timeline for 'A Song of Ice and Fire'. We have taken a liberty already regarding how and when Tywin became Head of House Lannister and Warden of the West. If you have a problem with this…..tough.**

**Read. Enjoy. REVIEW! look forward to more and hopefully enjoy this as much if not more as we are in writing and developing this. This is the first GoT x with Van Helsing so we hope that it is meeting expectations.**

**See you next time people!**


	3. To Meet Devils and Dragons

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own the collective works of Van Helsing, Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or anything that may come into the following **Fan made** piece of fiction. This is meant for enjoyment alone.

"By the words of my house know that I am Never Alone." speech.

'_wow, I didn't think stupidity could come in such a small package as that Joffrey cunt._' thought/flashback monologuing.

"█▄▄██▄▄▄██▄▄█" Wolf howl/roar/etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

Previously:

_Lucian paid no attention to the three surviving soldiers that regrouped close to him; the Knight in plate armor of reds and golds and two lighter armored and equipped men. Instead he kept his gaze fixed upon the fleeing criminals. Staring at them like a starving predator as if briefly contemplating hunting them all down._

_In the end he shook his head to clear the blood-thirst away and dropped the sword in his hand to turn back to the carriage, his expression softening to one more welcoming and gentle._

"_The threat is gone. Are you unharmed?"_

_There was a near silent whisper from within the carriage; fearful and desperate sounding as someone within, female from the pitch, urged against opening the door. But they were ultimately ignored as with a soft creak and with tentative caution, the door opened._

XxxXxxXxxX

**1451 a.d (anno Domini)**

Spring in Târgoviște, Wallachia was bright and sunny so far to Lucian's eyes. Thirteen years old the boy had begun his apprenticeship under his father Adrian to learn their families knowledge and collected techniques in smithing to one day take over as blacksmith for their region.

It was a prospect that was met by the teenager with both excitement and reluctance as while he was interested in seeing the legacy of his family continue, just as any other boy his age, he yearned for the excitement of adventure beyond the horizon.

There wasn't all that much special about his lot in life as far as he could tell. His father was Romanian born and according to his frequent lessons; from a long line of blacksmiths that could trace their line back to the original Roman Empire long before the birth of Christ. Whether that was true or not was still up for debate as Lucian had come to notice those boasts always came in the wake of a few too many cups of Mead. His mother was a foreigner to the lands of Wallachia; originally born in France to the West; Gabriella had grown in a small town to parents of no particular importance. From the stories his parents had both told him; his father had met her on his travels across Europe where the two had fallen in love and she ran eloped with the Wallachian in spite of her parents approval and returned to the east with him.

She was beautiful beyond words, no other woman in their neighborhood could compare to the wife of Adrian Smith. While Lucian had inherited the black hair and grey eyes of his father, Adrian's hair had been curly and a perpetual mess which made it fortunate that from his mother with her long, straight blond hair and clear blue eyes he had inherited its appearance if not the color.

As was expected on a day like today, Lucian had been up with the sun, throwing on his clothes and making his way outside to where the forge was; in order to prepare it for the day ahead. His father had explained to him that his duties included cleaning the forge out and replacing the wood and charcoals before lighting the fires to warm the forge up. It apparently developed discipline and helped grow accustomed to the routine of the job.

Lucian had trouble seeing it that way for the first few weeks. But several months in now and the thirteen year old saw the benefit as he was growing more and more used to being awake so early and had found himself capable of throwing off the fatigue of sleep quicker and quicker.

It had been raining the past few days as was the norm for this time of the year but thankfully the wood shed had been repaired a few months ago so as to keep its stores dry. It took the better part of two hours to clear out the ashes and debris from the fire pit, replace the wood and charcoal, light it and then clean out the dirt and water that had washed across the floor from the night before.

By the time the sun had truly risen to start the day and his parents had woken with his father coming out to inspect the forge while mother prepared a morning meal to break their fast, Lucian had stoked the fire to a good heat and checked for himself the condition of the tools for any signs of stress or wear and tear that would require either repair or replacement.

His father pointed out a few things that he could improve on with what Lucian had done to prepare the shop for the days work ahead; simple things like the position of the coals in the forge itself to maximise heat and a hammer that needed replacing due to a hairline fracture that he had missed. Overall though, Adrian had appeared impressed as he clapped a hand on his son's shoulder with a wide smile at the boys work.

After their morning meal the Smith family went about their day as was the norm. Gabriella tended to her duties at the house and her garden that she had spent years cultivating to her pride while Lucian assisted his father at the forge.

Today they were finishing work on a particularly special order. As one of the only smithies in Wallachia capable of forging high quality items and _the _only place where any could find the true talent and speciality of this shop; Damascus Steel.

It had been the purpose of Adrian's travels in his youth. He had crossed the breadth of the known world; seeking to learn smithing techniques and forging secrets from different cultures. He had not just returned to Wallachia with a wife after all; he had come back to his home with a collection of journals and materials that he had gathered over the years from the four corners of the Earth. Perhaps the most significant had been from his trip to the far east into India. He had learned under a smith there who had revealed to him the secrets and methodology behind the shaping and creation of Wootz Steel. This had lead Adrian to being trained in India to not only smelt and forge Wootz Steel, but to take it and craft it as its more widespread name in greater Europe; Damascus Steel.

It had been the elder Smith's love for his craft and desire to learn more over a thirst for wealth that had allowed him the opportunity to learn this crafting method in India and when he returned from France several years later, he had taken over from his own father; Lucian's Grandfather and elevated their family with the reputation for their capabilities.

It had even grown to the point where Adrian Smith had been brought into and held on a retainer by Knights of the Holy Order to craft weapons and armaments for the order.

The commission that they had been charged with making was for one of the Holy Order's up and coming Knight; descended from royalty within Romania and the soon to be ruler of Wallachia. It was this Knight that also acted as the Liaison between the Blacksmith and the Holy Order itself. He had been the one to first approach Adrian and hire his services as a test to see if his reputation and the quality of his craft was as good as hearsay would have it. When it proved to be as this Knight had reported back to his superiors as 'even greater than belief would have it', Adrian and his family were brought into the Order as their primary means of supply and armament. The Order kept them safe from the politics of Wallachia and from the neighboring Ottoman Empire as well as making sure that they were well supplied for what the Order required of the Smith.

It had been hard work for Adrian to keep up with the work on his own but when Lucian had grown old enough to step in and assist in his work the father and son were able to accept larger orders and work more efficiently.

"How is the Hilt coming boy?" Adrian called over to his son.

By now several hours had passed by since the early morning with Adrian tempering the blade of the weapon they were working on one final time and going over its shape carefully for any sign of weakness or imperfection. Lucian had been assigned to making sure the rest of the blade was ready for final assembly, which in the current time was the hilt itself.

"I've finished carving in its embellishments and smoothed out the edges." The teenager replied, crossing the stone floor to present his work to his father, a quiet and nervous pride in his face as he waited for his father's approval.

Adrian eyed the carved handle carefully, noting the sweeping lines of his son's work that depicted a thorny vine wrapping around the hilt to end in a blooming rose at the hilt's curved end. The elder Smith was further impressed with his son's work when he noted that Lucian had filled in the carving with a vein of silver that had been perfectly smoothed down so that it seamlessly blended in with the wood of the hilt itself.

"This is good work. Well done boy." The man nodded as he returned to his own work; putting the finishing touches to the blade before dipping it back into water to cool it down. "Bring everything to the bench and we'll start assembly."

Lucian jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the workbench where all the pieces for final assembly as well as the swords scabbard were waiting. "All ready father."

The Blacksmith smiled widely and slapped a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, laughing loudly. "Well done. We'll make a blacksmith out of you yet!"

Final work took no time at all. With the Damascus Steel blade finished and the hilt and guard ready, everything slid into place and were easily tightened and secured. Adrian sharpened the blade after it had been assembled himself, not wanting to risk Lucian slipping and carving his hands open.

By mid afternoon a gleaming Kilij was ready to go out into the world and slay its enemies.

"Ah I see I have made good time my friend! I see you have outdone yourself again, a true masterpiece if ever I saw one."

Lucian's eyes brightened at the voice as he spun around, grinning widely as he saw an armored man dismounting a horse to approach the shop, a kind smile gracing a noble visage.

"Just in time Milord." Adrian replied with a bow, glancing to his son with a silent urge for the boy to do the same.

Lucian himself mimicked the movement though the smile never left his face.

The Knight let out a laugh as he waved a dismissive hand, motioning for them to rise back up. "None of that my friend, social status may divide us but you still fight against the forces of evil just as I. Only in a different manner."

The Blacksmith nodded in agreement to the Noble's words yet both he and the noble himself knew that the next time the two would meet they would go over the same thing where he would bow and this Knight would remind him that it was not needed.

"Of course Milord." Adrian nodded as he sheathed the Kilij in his hand and passed it over to his bright eyed son.

His Son's reaction to the arrival of the Lord Knight was perhaps the only thing that the man wished different in the agreement that he had between himself and the Knights of the Holy Order. It showed a lifestyle to the thirteen year old that appeared so glamorous and exciting that it distracted the boy from the reality of his life and what was expected of him for the future.

"I take it this is your Son? I don't believe we have met."

Adrian walked over to his son and clasped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "My apologies. This is Lucian, he had only recently started to work with me here."

The Knight nodded in approval, smiling at the Blacksmith's son. "That is good. Remember to heed your father's lessons well. I remember when I was taken under the wing of my own father. The wisdom a father can impart on his son is irreplaceable."

Lucian nodded in understanding, glancing over to his own father who had a smile of his own filled with pride.

"We have finished the commission the Holy Order has placed Milord." Adrian spoke up, bringing the Knights attention back to him. "Fifty swords, thirty five polearms and two hundred daggers are ready for shipment at your approval."

The Lord's eyes widened as surprise took him. "Truly? I am impressed; I had not thought even you capable of completing such an order in so short a time."

Adrian puffed out his chest at the praise. "It would have taken longer without the assistance of Lucian here, but I believe that the Holy Order will be satisfied with the quality of our work."

The Knight nodded, not doubting for a moment the claim. "Very good. I shall have delivery arranged and a courier sent with your payment."

"As always Milord we are most grateful." Adrian replied with a bow. "But there is one last thing before you return to the Order."

The Knight raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"We heard that you are to assume authority over the Wallachian Chapter for the Holy Order." Adrian explained. "Is it true that your father Lord Valerious is stepping down?"

The man let out a subdued sigh before shaking his head. "My father has been summoned to the Vatican to speak with the Church, apparently there are concerns regarding the influence the Devil is having over the women of England and there may be the possibility that some of the Knight here will be dispatched there to investigate. With his absence I am to step up and lead in his stead."

Adrian nodded in understanding before holding out the Kilij to the Knight. "Well in light of your appointment on behalf of my family we would like to present you with a gift."

The Knight blinked in surprise, eyeing the sheathed weapon critically and noting its polished and decorated sheath and hilt that marked it as a weapon of impressive design. "This is for me?"

"Indeed. Forged with Damascus Steel and sharpened to a the breadth of a hair, this Kilij will serve you well in your duties to protect the Children of the Lord."

The man stepped up to the Blacksmith and took the weapon from his hands, tracing a gauntleted hand over its surface before grasping the hilt tightly. A swift draw and his eyes lit up, impressed as the light glittered off the wave patterned blade surface. The curved edge of the blade and its perfectly sharpened edge had the man believing without a doubt that no other steel blade would be able to stand against it.

"I am humbled by your gift my friend. I will wield this with pride. And if God is with me, then perhaps with this blade the world itself will know the name of Vladislaus Dragulia."

XxxXxxXxxX

**262 A.C (After Conquest)**

Lucian wrinkled his nose in distaste as he was directed passed the gate and into Kings Landing. Tugging on the reigns of the horses that were pulling the Wheel House, the rough looking man urged them forward; the lone remaining Lannister Knight leading the way.

In the aftermath of the bandit attack two weeks ago that he had stumbled across, the Werewolf had been introduced to the Lady he had saved; Joanna Lannister. He had been surprised to find out that not only had he saved such a beautiful looking woman with golden hair that reminded him of his mother in a way, but one who was wed to a man that was a king in his own right. So grateful had she been that Joanna had not been offended or put off by his savage appearance one bit like her handmaiden had been. The smell of death had not stopped this noblewoman one bit from stepping down from the Wheel House to properly greet and thank him for coming to the rescue of herself and her children.

With how severely her escort had been devastated by the attack Joanna had enlisted his aid in continuing to Kings Landing. She had explained to him that for what he had done to save not only her own life but the lives of her newborn children, he deserved a reward. A reward that she herself was unable to properly give but her Lord-Husband could and would provide happily.

Joanna had given him a chance to clean himself up as much as he could before they set off again and with the Wheel House coachman a casualty of the attack Lucian himself took over the responsibility. His Trunk was placed on the roof with the rest of the Lady of the West's luggage.

It had made for an impressive sight when the Lannister escort reached the Lion Gate to Kings Landing. The Gold Cloaks guarding it actually reached for their weapons when they saw the large bare chested form of Lucian seated atop the Wheel House, his long matted hair and beard adding to the ferocity of his visage.

The few remaining Lannister guards that had survived the attack lead by a single Knight had been able to convince the Gold Cloaks to let them through without needing to inform Lady Joanna and forcing her to get involved.

Lucian had been informed that their ultimate destination within Kings Landing was the Red Keep; the large castle that was situated above the city itself which meant that the profound smell of shit would be somewhat lessened. While Lucian was thankful for that eventuality; he was still doubtful that it would mean much to him considering he had been smelling this cesspit a day before the walls had even been sighted.

The journey through the streets of Kings Landing went without difficulty. There were wide eyed peasants gaping at the gleaming Wheel House as it passed by and a few foolish vagrants that had considered making a move to 'relieve' the procession of its valuables. These were put to a swift end when without fail Lucian found their eyes with a stare of his own that saw each and every one of them fleeing in terror.

It was perhaps a twenty to thirty minute ride after entering King's Landing to reach the Red Keep. The constant and almost overwhelming smell of shit had grated Lucian's nerves to the point that by the time they ascended the hill to the keep proper, the man was growling at any that dared cross his path and slow him down. His baleful stare and frustrated posture was enough to force even a few Gold Cloaks to retreat a few steps as he passed them by.

When he did bring the Wheel House to a stop before the great doors to the Red Keep, the Wallachian swiftly hopped off the front of the carriage and stalked over to the door, glaring at the castle servant that was approaching; forcing the man to retreat in fear for his life. With a deep, calming breath Lucian forced his discomfort and irritation with the foul smelling city down and relaxed his shoulders as he pulled the Wheel House door open.

Joanna smiled from within as she saw him waiting, causing the once-knight to return the gesture as he held out a hand to aid her out. Reaching out the Lady of the West took the offered hand as she stepped out from the Wheel house. With a word of thanks to the bare chested man she turned back to the Wheel House and took Cersei into her arms from her waiting Handmaiden; nestling her close to her chest and smiling down at the wide eyed infant who was peering around at her new surroundings. Unknown to her as she checked over her daughter, Joanna's Handmaiden ignored the offer for assistance from Lucian as she stepped out from the Wheel House; holding a sleeping Jaime carefully. She also didn't notice the distrustful glare the girl sent the man as she walked away from him and over to her side.

With a slight shake of his head in muted amusement, Lucian ignored the hostility of the Handmaiden and closed the door to the carriage, walking away from it and allowing the castle servant he had frightened away the chance to return and take it away to where the horses could be tended to and the Wheel House itself cleaned.

Turning to a Lannister guard that had appeared, having come from the keep no doubt under the orders of her Husband upon learning of her arrival to King's Landing, Joanna addressed the man as she indicated to a silent Lucian.

"This man saved the lives of myself and my children. Have him cleaned and dressed for an audience with my Lord-Husband."

The guardsman bowed in obedience to his Lady before turning to the large form that was Lucian. Given that the guard stood at only five and a half feet tall he had to crane his neck to meet the gaze of the nearly seven foot tall giant of a man and when he did find those steel grey eyes peering back at him the man could not help but swallow nervously.

"A-ah, follow me if you would Ser."

XxxX

Lucian was directed to a guest room within the keep where he was left to wait for a moment while the guardsman left to collect the servants that would see to his cleaning and preparation to meet with the Lord of the Westerlands.

In short order Lucian was bathed and groomed by the castle servants. His beard was shaved off and hair washed but left at its current length. Due to his size a tailor was brought in to adjust some clothing for him to where but after a couple of hours since his arrival to the Red Keep, the man was clean with his long black hair left loose for the most part with a pony tail tying up the top half. He had been given a pair of black leather pants and soft leather boots with a dark red long sleeved silk shirt over which was worn a plain black leather vest.

Properly dressed and cleaned, Lucian examined his appearance in a mirror, taking in the form that was presented to his eyes and experienced a brief moment of disbelief as he looked at the well presented man that looked back at him. It was almost hard to believe that not so long ago a wild beast would have been staring back at him. So far from the man he had once been before his friend Vlad had become a monster. So far from the monster that he himself had become because he had refused to abandon his friend to the darkness.

The last time he had looked at his reflection in those times before he had fallen under his curse his eyes had not looked so old.

"Begging your pardon Milord. But your presence has been requested."

The man turned away from his reflection and looked over to the young maid that had been part of the group to tend to his care; noting the heavy blush that filled her cheeks as she looked at the floor rather than at him.

"Of course."

With a gesture to lead the way directed at the blushing maid, Lucian followed her out of the guest room and to the Throne room of the Red Keep.

As far as first impressions went as the man stepped into, it was well and truly successful in instilling a sense of awe into the former Knight. Marble flooring polished to a shine that allowed him to see his own reflection as he walked across it, grand pillars lining the sides of the grand room with great black banners marked with the sigil of a three headed dragon and massive dragon skulls hanging from the walls like hunting trophies that had Lucian honestly amazed at the thought of being in a place where the legendary beasts were not some tale of fantasy.

Two Guards in white and silver armor with matching white cloaks flanked a fearsome throne unlike anything Lucian had ever seen before. Comprised completely from melted down and deformed swords beyond counting, it was both a trophy and symbol of power that Lucian believed even Dracula himself would have loved.

Seated atop that symbol of conquest was a man that looked every bit a king. Clothed in rich silks and furs encrusted with jewels and gold and silver, a crown of red gold with gemstone eyed dragon heads at each point sat atop a head of pale silver hair. Strong violet eyes peered down with an authority and knowledge of control that had Lucian believing that this truly was a man who ruled.

Standing at the steps that lead to this throne of blades Lucian spotted Joanna standing next to a stern looking young man with medium length golden hair that came down just shy of his chin and pale green eyes. Dressed in a rich leather jacket bearing an iron pin of a fist with matching pants and boots, Lucian could only assume this was the Lord-Husband of Joanna as the man looked down to the woman as she gently bumped him with her hip to call his attention to the quietly babbling baby held in her arms.

Lucian spotted Joanna's Handmaiden positioned a few feet behind with Jaime nestled in her arms.

The Maid that had escorted him to the room had since departed, her presence not required nor welcome in the Throne room, leaving Lucian to approach alone. When he was perhaps ten feet from the steps of the Throne itself Lucian pressed his hand against his chest as he dipped into a bow toward the shrewd eyed king.

"Majesty."

"Ah, Joanna's Savior. Welcome." The King spoke, leaning forward atop his throne with a faint smile on his face. "I am Aerys Targaryen, Second of my name; King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Tell me your name and know that you are welcome here in my home."

"I am Lucian Your Grace." The Werewolf straightened from his bow. "Never have I seen the like of this castle, I am grateful beyond measure for your welcome."

Aerys eyes glittered with amusement at the reply as he stood up from the Iron Throne and walked down the steps. The gathered occupants of the room dropped into a quick bow and curtsy as the King came down from his throne forcing Lucian to mirror the action; not wanting to offend this monarch that ruled not one, but seven kingdoms.

"When word reached me that the lovely Lady Joanna had been attacked, I was filled with dread and rage at the very thought." Aerys spoke as he approached the taller man. "That I find her safe fills me with relief. I am told that I have you to thank for this miracle."

Lucian glanced from the king and over to a smiling Joanna who nodded at his look before returning his gaze to the eager king. "I was fortunate enough to be in the area at the time Your Grace. Were it not for the courage and skill of the guards that gave their lives for their Lady I fear I would have failed to lend any sort of aid."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Joanna's smile widen and the man next to her straighten up in a sense of pride, a twitch of his mouth hinting at an approving smirk of his own.

"I also heard, that you tore a man in two with nothing but your bare hands?"

Lucian smirked at this, allowing the king to see his own amusement at the act of violence. A smart thing as it caused a wide grin to form on the monarch's own face. "I am afraid that is not true Majesty. While I did defend the fair Lady without weapon, I could only break the back of one of the bandits against the ground."

Aerys nodded, seemingly approving of the brutal fashion of fighting. "That is good. While many would speak ill of such brutality, I would applaud your acts as it ensured the rescue of such a jewel."

Lucian bowed his head to the king, showing his gratitude for such regard. "Of course. I am glad that I was able to see that she was able to reunite with her Husband safely."

The positive air diminished in the King at the reminder that Joanna Lannister was a married woman, something that Lucian noticed. It was why he had mentioned it after all. He had been able to smell the barely suppressed lust the king was feeling at the mere mention of Joanna and so felt it, appropriate to point out that she was not for him to lust after.

"Of course." Aerys finally spoke, his voice taking a slightly harsher tone as he stepped back from Lucian and returned to his throne, easing down on it to lean back and rest his chin on a hand. "My Hand owes you a great debt for your actions. Is this not true Tywin?"

The young man nodded, his eyes not leaving Lucian as he examined the giant of a man carefully, as if trying to find motive in any of the words spoken thus far. "Indeed it is Your Grace. A Lannister always pays his debts and this is one debt I feel is owed thrice."

"Oh? Thrice you say?"

Tywin looked over to his king and nodded sternly. "My Lady-Wife came to King's Landing to present to me my children. My daughter Cersei Lannister and an heir in my son Jaime Lannister. This man did not simply save the life of my beloved wife. But that of my children. A debt is owed to him for each Lannister saved by his hands."

Aerys visage darkened for a moment so brief that none but Lucian noticed it before it was buried underneath the countenance of a magnanimous ruler. "The Lannisters are one of the few houses across my lands that understand the worth and value of a debt. If it is as you say, then I will expect this man to be rewarded as such."

With a bow in understanding at the unspoken order; '_reward him richly_', Tywin returned his gaze to the dark haired man and fell silent once more.

"You never told me from which house you hail from Lucian." Aerys stated as he ignored Tywin to address the Savior of Joanna. "I know the faces of every Lord that bends the knee to me and so do not recognise your bearing. Am I correct in the belief that you are either lowborn or not of these lands?"

"That is correct Your Grace." Lucian nodded. "My homeland rests far beyond these shores. One that I can never return to I fear."

"I see. Then perhaps I will, in the future see more of the name you make for yourself Lucian." The King mused. "Yes, I think I will see far more of you in the years ahead."

XxxXxxXxxXxxX

**A/N**

**Alrighty then. So we split this chapter up into two parts obviously. A bit of a flashback to Lucian's origin and his first introduction to someone _very _important to his future and then back to the present time in Westeros for the rest.**

**We tried to introduce some background knowledge in regards to Lucian's family connections to blacksmithing as well as some details regarding his father's ability to work Damascus Steel. Chances are people who know more will have something to say about any inaccuracies; to that we will simply point out that we know nothing beyond what we could google.**

**Lucian's involvement will ultimately change a lot in regards to upcoming canon. So do not expect or whine about what we change. Actions taken ultimately result in consequences one way or the other.**

**Next weeks schedule has us doing a chapter for Zero Chakra Plan.**

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	4. Debts Paid, Oaths Broken

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own the collective works of Van Helsing, Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or anything that may come into the following **Fan made** piece of fiction. This is meant for enjoyment alone.

"By the words of my house know that I am Never Alone." speech.

'_wow, I didn't think stupidity could come in such a small package as that Joffrey cunt._' thought/flashback monologuing.

"█▄▄██▄▄▄██▄▄█" Wolf howl/roar/etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

Previously:

_Aerys visage darkened for a moment so brief that none but Lucian noticed it before it was buried underneath the countenance of a magnanimous ruler. "The Lannisters are one of the few houses across my lands that understand the worth and value of a debt. If it is as you say, then I will expect this man to be rewarded as such."_

_With a bow in understanding at the unspoken order; 'reward him richly', Tywin returned his gaze to the dark haired man and fell silent once more._

"_You never told me from which house you hail from Lucian." Aerys stated as he ignored Tywin to address the Savior of Joanna. "I know the faces of every Lord that bends the knee to me and so do not recognise your bearing. Am I correct in the belief that you are either lowborn or not of these lands?"_

"_That is correct Your Grace." Lucian nodded. "My homeland rests far beyond these shores. One that I can never return to I fear."_

"_I see. Then perhaps I will, in the future see more of the name you make for yourself Lucian." The King mused. "Yes, I think I will see far more of you in the years ahead."_

XxxXxxXxxX

Lucian waited, patiently, outside the door that lead to the personal chambers to the Hand of the King. He had been instructed by Tywin to wait while the man spoke to his Lady-Wife in private. It didn't concern the man all that much so he had easily followed the instruction. He had been able to more or less ignore the constant smell of shit that Kings Landing exuded by this point. It had the side effect of removing his sense of smell completely while in this place but at least he no longer had to feel as if he were head first in a cesspit.

The door opened with a creak, drawing the attention of the grey eyed man and he turned to see the face of Joanna peering out at him. "Thank you for waiting. My Lord- Husband is ready to receive you now."

The door opened wider, allowing the Werewolf entrance and the first thing that Lucian noticed was the sense of modest wealth. There were no gaudy gold decorative pieces, expensive tapestries or portraits hanging from the walls. Only beautifully built and carved wooden furniture and a single hanging flag of the Lannister standard hanging from a wall to the side of the room. Seated behind the only desk in the office, looking at him carefully and with notable focus was Joanna's Husband; Tywin Lannister.

Joanna walked behind the desk and rested a hand on Tywin's shoulder, eliciting a response from the stern looking man as his shoulders relaxed noticeably before she moved over to the side of the room where a comfortable looking chair was positioned by two bassinets holding the Children; Cersei and Jaime.

It was only thanks to barely remembered lessons in etiquette from his time in the Holy Order that had Lucian remain standing before the young Lord and his Lady-Wife until Tywin gestured for him to be seated with a hand.

Lucian did so only after offering a bow of his head before pulling out the wooden chair that had been offered him and eased himself into it, ignoring the groaning as it fought to carry his weight.

When the chair had ceased its groaning, Lucian eased back against the backrest and rested his forearms against the armrests.

"I will repeat myself, I owe you a great debt for what you have done." Tywin began, briefly turning to look up at his beloved wife. "Had you not intervened I fear that this day would have come to bear very different news."

Lucian returned the gratitude with a small smile. "It was my honor to have come to the defence of such a strong Lady. I cannot think of any other that could have shown such courage and strength to retain her wits in a situation like that."

Joanna smiled at the compliment afforded to her while Tywin simply cocked an eyebrow in interest, taking note that not only did this large man know enough to praise his wife in a manner that did not offend him, but did not go too far like the King was known to.

"What I said in the throne room before the King was not empty words." Tywin continued. "i do owe you for your actions, but not simply once over. A debt owed for each Lannister life saved I believe my words were?"

Joanna nodded when Tywin looked up to her for confirmation. Unneeded it may have been but the gesture was recognised for what it was; the desire to include her in the rewarding of the savior of the Lady of Casterly Rock.

"I am afraid that such generosity would be wasted on me My Lord." Lucian admitted with a small frown. "With my current situation my needs are simple. All I have in this world are the clothes on my back and what I carried with me here to King's Landing."

"You said you hail from a distant land?" Joanna spoke up, her expression showing concern for the apparent plight of her savior.

Lucian nodded. "I was born and raised in a land called Romania. Due to unforeseen circumstances I was forced to leave my homeland behind, never to return. I am new to these shores. If anything; I would desire a place to call home."

The man looked down for a moment, staring at his hands and thinking back to his younger days before he had been cursed for the crime of helping his friend; back when he had given his blood and steel to the defence of the realm against the monsters and demons of the unseen world.

"And a reason to keep going." He breathed out in melancholy, he honestly missed those days.

"What was your position before coming to Westeros?" Tywin asked, his eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his desk as he clasped his hands together beneath his chin.

"My father was a Smith, my mother a simple Housekeeper." Lucian answered with an honest shrug. "By good fortune my family was in the employ of an Order of Knights that saw me worthy to enter their ranks."

The Hand of the King's mouth twitched upward into a smirk. "I suspected as much. You have far too refined a bearing to truly belong amongst the Small-Folk. And you were made a Knight by this Order? For what reason?"

"My family answered to a local lord and member of this Order; a man by the name of Vladislaus Dragulia of House Tepes. Through him my father forged weaponry and armor. I was learning under my father when I first met him." Lucian smiled at the memory, remembering how so much larger than life his friend had looked in his armor from atop his steed. "Over time he taught me how to hold a sword and to defend myself. From my understanding I must have impressed him with how quickly I took in his lessons and soon enough he took me to be his Squire."

"And this was accepted?" Joanna asked in curiosity. It was nigh unheard of here in Westeros; the very idea of a Knight, Noble or Landed, taking a peasant as their Squire.

"I quickly learned in my early days under his tutelage that one does not simply say 'no' to the Lord of House Tepes." Lucian smiled in amusement. "I trained hard and devoted every drop of blood in my body to making him proud. Something I succeeded in when I was Knighted when I turned eighteen."

"But you are here now." Tywin pointed out shrewdly. "What happened for you to be forced to leave?"

Lucian frowned, his muscles clenching and the chair groaning once again under his weight as his body flexed unconsciously with the power of the Wolf. "I was, cast out from The Order. I committed an unforgivable crime."

"And what was that?"

"I chose to remain loyal to my friend rather than turn on him like the rest of The Order." Lucian said evenly, his grey eyes turning cold with the determination that clearly told the tale that, even now; he did not regret taking the side of his friend.

The look in the mountain of a man caused Joanna to flinch despite herself. It was the look of a man who had suffered more than any other and instead of coming out with regret, he had simply emerge harder and sharper; like tempered steel.

Tywin however, gained a sharper glint in his own eye. Such loyalty toward his former Liege-Lord turned friend. Oh what he could do with but a handful of men like this one before him. "You are wrong."

Lucian blinked, caught by surprise at the words of the young Lord before he felt his hands starting to clench from anger at what was starting to sound like an insult to the path he had taken regarding the early days of Vlad's Fall.

"You are wrong when you say that my desire to reward you would be wasted." Tywin elaborated. "I have decided how I will repay the debts owed to you. In your homeland you threw away your good name for the sake of your friend; your Lord. I will take that name and see it given due recognition."

Joanna's eyes widened and she looked down to her Lord-Husband; truly not expecting this decision.

"You were a Knight in your homeland, here you shall be a Lord." Tywin Lannister continued. "Your Banner will fly in service to the Westerlands as a vassal to the Lannister House. In this you will find the purpose that you wish for. For the life of my son, I will gift to you land upon which to govern; to the north of my home of Casterly Rock resides a castle; the ruin of a broken and destroyed house that turned against mine. You will be given the castle and surrounding lands of Castamere."

"Are you sure Husband?" Joanna spoke up, an expression of concern on her face as she looked between the two men. "Reputation aside, Castamere itself is a flooded ruin. Hardly suitable to stand as proper reward."

"I agree." Tywin nodded to his wife, his gaze softening when he looked up to her with a gentle smile. "Which is why Lannister gold will provide men and material to have Castamere restored to its proper and former glory."

Lucian was more stunned than anything else. He had truthfully expected this younger man to shower him in gold, perhaps gift him a weapon from his personal armory. Maybe even re-Knighted to the laws of this new land he found himself in. He had most certainly _not_ expected to be skipping Knighthood and going directly to Lordship and made a vassal under the dominion of the Lord of Casterly Rock who was so highly positioned that he served as the Right Hand to the King of the Seven Kingdoms in addition to his duties as Warden of the West. The apparent gifting of a ruin to him fell more in line with what he would have expected from a Lord; something that was of no use to the Tywin and would force Lucian to put a great deal of work and effort to fix up himself.

But that had expectation had been swiftly negated by Tywin's almost dismissive gesture of claiming that he would see to this ruin's restoration himself and out of his own treasury.

It seemed that Joanna had not been in jest when she had claimed 'A Lannister Always Pays His Debts.'

"I am, well beyond words My Lord." Lucian confessed, genuinely rendered speechless by the gesture and extend to which the man was determined to see his actions in saving the Lady Lannister and her children from death rewarded. "But I don't know the first thing about managing such an estate, much less the customs and intricacies of Westeros. Do you not risk shame by placing an ignorant foreigner such as myself in such position?"

Tywin nodded, conceding the point that had been raised. "Which is why, as payment for the third debt; the life of my daughter, I will personally see to it that you are properly educated by King's Landing's Grand Maester Pycelle. He will see to it that you are educated in every regard of our world. When it comes to the politics and intricacies of your new station however; I will personally see to it you are capable of fitting in amongst the other bannermen of the Westerlands."

Lucian raised an eyebrow in interest. This was no small thing. Personal instruction from high tier nobility. Tywin Lannister sat under the weight of his duties, not only as the ruling Lord of Casterly Rock and Warden of The West, but as Hand of the King. And yet, he was prepared to take on the task of teaching him what it was to be a Lord of Westeros.

Tywin didn't know it at the time. But in truth; this ignited that first spark of loyalty and respect that would come to grow into a raging inferno between the Wolf of the West and the Lion of the Rock.

XxxX

Lucian's entry into Nobility had proven to be a swift ordeal. As per his request; King Aerys had been dutifully informed by Tywin Lannister as to how he had reward with Joanna's Champion. The Targaryen King had been pleased to the point of ecstatic to hear that his Hand had elevated the man to what he considered appropriate standing. When he had been told that this new lord was to be given the land and holdings of Castamere however, the King had demanded that the Crown lend its weight and gold to the efforts of seeing to its restoration.

Tywin had explained to a confused Lucian that King Aerys had long since fostered an unhealthy affection for his Lady-Wife and so such a response was not entirely unexpected. That the Lannister's were set to see to Castamere's restoration would have only served to increase Aerys' resolve to get involved.

In the months following, Lucian had quickly acclimatised himself to the Red Keep of King's Landing. Through some measure of effort he had been able to ignore the potent odor of shit and piss that wafted up from the city itself into the Red Keep by more or less turning off his sense of smell. Joanna had spent some time with her husband; pulling Tywin away from his work so that he could spend time with his newborn children. Lucian had refrained from commenting on it, but he had seen the residual traces of open joy on the man's face when they had met in the Tower of the Hand for lessons before the Lord in question could hide them beneath his more stoic professionalism.

Pycelle was someone that Lucian had quickly grown to dislike. The middle aged man had carried himself like someone decades older and yet moved with the surety of a younger man. Lucian had little trust to offer a man who practised such deceit so easily. Pycelle himself had attempted to convey early on in the lessons to the newly titled Lord a sense of obedience and obligation to the man that had elevated him. Lucian had simply glowered at the man to the point where Pycelle had very nearly soiled himself after which the Grand Maester no longer tried to indoctrinate him into being a lapdog to the Lannister name.

Lucian's loyalty was given to those who earned it. Not for any other reason.

Regardless of the tension between the two, Lucian took to his lessons under Pycelle well enough. Learning the history of Westeros, the First men and the Andals. It had been interesting to learn of the Geography of the land and to learn of its seasons; specifically that Westeros and its neighbor of Essos seemed to have only two of them; Winter and Not-Winter.

Currently Lucian was returning to the Tower of the hand, a roll of parchment tucked under an arm and a small wooden box held in his hands.

The door to Tywin's office was open; the Hand of the King having expected him to arrive at this time which allowed Lucian to enter without delay, pausing only to kick the door closed behind him.

Joanna had departed for Casterly Rock two days ago by this point; under a reinforced guard detail that had comprised of well over two thirds of Tywin's personal knights and men-at-arms. With the absence of wife and children Tywin's mood had taken a drop, but thankfully the gratitude the Lord felt toward his new Bannerman had allowed for Lucian to not be cut off as a result of the shift in temper.

"I take it that Pycelle has finished his work in formalising the details in establishing your House." The golden haired man said when he looked up to see the much taller man enter, arms laden with the evidence of the reward given to the newly minted Lord.

"The Grand Maester would have liked it if I had taken a different choice regarding the details of my House, but I made my point clear in the end." Lucian pointed out as he sat himself down at Tywin's permission.

This time the chair did not creak or groan at the addition of his weight; this one having been custom made for the specific purpose of handling the size of its occupant.

"I am aware." Tywin acknowledged. "Grand Maester Pycelle did attempt to bring my weight to veto many of the decisions you reached regarding the details of your House. He was silent on the matter but I could tell the displeasure he felt when I pointed out my approval in the direction you have taken."

At Tywin's encouragement, Lucian placed the wooden box to the side of the Hand's desk before unrolling the parchment before the two.

"Blood." Tywin commented with a raised eyebrow as he eyed the name that his Bannerman had taken. "I will admit I was curious to learn that you had selected that as the name for your House and future family. Unique."

Lucian nodded in agreement. "In a sense it is. But there is meaning, if only to me that lead me to make such a decision. Everything I am is because of blood. For the most part, all I have left of my mother and father is the blood that flows through my body. The man I became as a Knight was because of the blood I shed and the bond I once had to my friend and master was bound in the blood of brotherhood."

It went unsaid that in addition to what he had just told Tywin, there had also been the fact that the monster that his friend Vlad had become had kept him a prisoner for centuries for no other reason than to make use of his blood in the creation of his 'pets'. His blood had been a big part of his life; for good and bad.

"Lucian Blood." Tywin tested the words aloud before smirking. "It's a powerful name. I like it."

Moving on from the name of the House that was to take ownership of Castamere, Tywin directed his attention to the Heraldry. The skull of a wolf, colored red placed over a white crescent moon with a field of black. It was, fitting. Tywin felt it appropriate considering he was oft left feeling like he was staring at a wolf when Lucian would meet his stare. At first he had thought that Lucian was making an attempt to claim the same symbol as the Lords of the North; House Stark. But Pycelle had informed him that this was no Direwolf.

A small difference, but enough to avoid stepping on the toes of the Great Wolf of Winterfell; Rickard Stark.

"I have always identified with wolves." Lucian said, seeing Tywin's gaze move further down the parchment to the words that had been chosen to connect to his House. "Pack animals; they ally together with the understanding that they are only as strong, as effective as their weakest member."

_Never Alone._

"In Romania I was always one of many Knights that travelled the land to ensure the security of those that lived there. I could always trust the safety of my own life in the hands of the man that stood to my left."

It was also a hope. Dracula had enjoyed tormenting him with the singular fact that no-one would ever come to rescue Lucian from the Vampire King. It had been a haunting detail that had very nearly sent him to madness whenever The Monster reminded him; '_you are alone._'

The Lion of Casterly Rock nodded his approval. Powerful words. Simply and not overly grand like House Baratheon's '_Ours is the Fury._' But powerful all the same.

Turning from the parchment that had only what limited information Lucian had been able to provide regarding his family tree; being restricted to his mother and father, Tywin reached for the wooden box and pulled it toward him.

Flicking a finger to remove the delicate latch that secured the box before opening it to see two items nestled on a bed of red velvet. A gold signet ring and a larger stamp; both bearing the same mark that would act as the official seal for House Blood.

"Pycelle has of course sent a record of all of this to be recorded within the King's archives." Tywin commented, not bothering to ask as it had to be a foregone conclusion unless the Grand Maester wished to suffer the displeasure of Tywin Lannister.

Lucian nodded. "That was where he was headed as I came here to you."

Tywin nodded in approval; pleased to hear that Pycelle was still smart enough to know better than to impede the advancement of his new vassal.

There was a knock on the door that interrupted any further discussion between the two. Lucian leaned forward to collect his belongings; rolling up the details of his to-be-formed House as the door to The Hand's office opened and a member of the Kingsguard stepped through.

"Apologies for the intrusion Lord Hand."

Tywin peered over to the man, his fierce eyes narrowing slightly. He did not appreciate the presumption that had been made; that this guard had not even waited for permission before entering his Solar. It spoke of Aerys' influence. Whatever reason the Kingsguard had for intruding was obviously at the Kings behest and, by Aerys' reckoning; important enough to warrant the disregard for decorum.

"I take it, Ser Selmy, you have something important to report for you to interrupt like this?" The Lord Lannister spoke tersely, making it quite clear that he was not impressed.

Barristan Selmy; member of the Kingsguard weathered the glower of the displeased Hand of the King. He might not be as experienced in politics as he was in martial combat, but when you have stared down the likes of Maelys the Monstrous during the war of the Ninepenny Kings, it wasn't all that difficult to meet the gaze of the Lion of Casterly Rock without flinching.

"Lord Hand, His Grace the King requests the presence of yourself and your Vassal; Lord-"

"Blood."

Selmy bowed respectfully to the silently watching Lucian. "-Lord Blood, in the Throne room. A matter of some import had arisen."

Tywin said nothing, simply staring at the Kingsguard as if willing Barristan to blink first, after a moment where the other man simply waited and watched, Tywin abandoned his efforts and calmly rose to his feet; turning his gaze from Barristan to Lucian whom had matched his movement to stand.

"Well then, it would not do to keep His Grace waiting."

XxxX

The Throne room was tense and even without his sense of smell, Lucian could practically taste the fear and anger within the room as he entered.

Entering the room in the wake of his Liege-Lord, Lucian looked over the head of Tywin to see a calm faced Aerys seated on his throne looking down to a pathetic looking man who was being held to the ground in his knees in between two members of his Kingsguard.

Standing to the side in the shadow of that terrible monument of death and steel that was the Iron Throne Lucian spied a young, incredibly attractive woman with long silvery-white hair and rich purple eyes wearing a dress that most likely cost more than most peasants could ever earn across several lifetimes.

He had never met this woman before but given what he had been taught regarding the current setting of Westeros by both Pycelle and Tywin, he could make an accurate enough assumption as to her identity: Rhaella Targaryen, the sister-wife of Aerys.

"Good of you to come down from your tower Tywin!" The King called out with a quiet smile when his eyes turned up to the entering Kingsguard, Hand of the King and the newly positioned Vassal of the Westerlands. "I thought you might enjoy sitting in on this."

"I serve at the pleasure of the King, your Grace." Tywin responded with a bow as he came to stand before the Iron Throne, before turning to the Queen. "My Queen."

The woman offered a tight smile in response before stepping back further into the shadows of her husband-brother's throne.

"I spoke with the Grand Maester earlier, Your new Vassal has chosen a worthy name to take for his House." Aerys commented as he turned his attention over to the Werewolf in question. "I am pleased to see that I was correct in my thinking that you will be someone worth watching Lord Blood."

Lucian bowed in response to the regard, still a standing a few paces behind Tywin. "I am honored to be considered so highly your Grace."

Aerys let out a quiet laugh as he shrugged, as if to say '_of course you are_' before returning his attention back to the patiently waiting Hand.

"This man here is, or should I say; was, one of my Kingsguard." The King began with a gesture of a hand toward the man that was forced to kneel before the throne. "My Master of Whispers reported to me that one of my protectors had forsaken his vows. At first I was appalled; such a thing could never happen to my beloved Kingsguard."

The bound man let out a groan as the grip of the two Kingsguard holding him down tightened on his shoulders; the men's anger growing at hearing the saddened words of their king.

"My Kingsguard swore oaths under the sight of The Seven; they forsook their names, their right to father children and even their right to inherit the lands of their forefathers. All for the sacred duty of maintaining the peace of the Realm by ensuring the safety and security of their king." The King continued as he rose from his throne to bring a hand up to clutch at his chest. "It was a sacrifice that filled me with pride and love for my glorious defenders. But this one, has made a mockery of his brothers!"

Aerys face twisted from that picture of grief into an image of savage rage as he spat down at the man in question.

"He took a woman as his bride and if that wasn't enough; fathered a child. He broke the pledge he made to me; his King and spat on the honor of those that he swore to stand with in the defence of the Targaryen name!"

Lucian frowned as he looked down from the irate sovereign and to the oath-breaker. Personally it seemed a bit extreme; to require a vow from these men that required them to forever abandon any thought of taking up their family name or even siring families of their own all for the sake of protecting a single man and perhaps his family. However, it was the spirit of the thing that had been broken. It wasn't the fact that this man had gone against the rules of being Kingsguard to take a wife and sire a child, it was the fact that he broke his oath. In the world of Honor, Oaths and Knighthood; your word was beyond sacred. It was the greatest form of currency one could possess. Amongst the Highborn the word of a Knight was worth more than gold itself. That this man would break it so completely like this. It didn't matter what the details of the oath were; it was still unforgivable.

"What have you determined his punishment to be?" Tywin asked, wondering what he was doing here if this man's crime was so clear cut while also making a mental note to talk to Varys. He did not appreciate being the last one to find out anything in the Red Keep.

"I have not decided yet." Aerys replied, seating himself back down and rubbing at his forehead as if to knead the anger out of his expression. "I will not allow him to take The Black, for an oath-breaker I do not see the point in forcing Lord Stark to kill this man when he inevitably breaks his oath there as well."

"Shall I notify The King's Justice that his axe will be needed then?" Tywin asked almost dismissively. He knew his king well enough to know that there would be no other accepted punishment but the most severe.

"I demand Trail By Combat!" The oath-breaker screamed.

Several eyes turned to the man, many amused by the fear that had been in his voice when he had cried out; rightly fearing the axe of the current King's Justice. The man was known for 'forgetting' to sharpen his axe so it usually took more than one blow to remove the head.

Aerys seemed to be the most amused of all as he leaned forward to sneer down at the man. "Trial By Combat Ser Harlik Bracken? Would you truly be willing to spill the blood of one of your brothers simply to save your own skin?"

Harlik, the Kingsguard that had broken his vow and taken a wife swallowed as he looked up to the stone faced visages of his sworn-brothers that held him in place and over to where the Lord Commander Gerold Hightower was watching impassively. Swallowing and steeling himself he turned to look back up to where the king was waiting, an expression that stood at the halfway point between amusement and annoyance on the king's face.

"T-the Seven will find true justice in this." Harlik responded. "If I must put my blade against that of one of my sworn-brothers so that the gods may prove my honor, so be it."

The room was silent for a heartbeat as each and every occupant looked down to the third son of the current Lord of The Stone Hedge. It was his right as any high-born to demand the right of Trial By Combat, even if it it meant fighting and potentially killing your own sworn-brother. It was a grey area regarding the issue of honor.

Could one hold their head high in honor after going through such a trial that resulted in the death of your brother-in-arms, by your own hand no less?

"I am almost tempted to deny you." Aerys confessed in an almost hissed out whisper. "If only to satisfy my own insult to your crime and spare the grief it would cause my True Kingsguard to cut you down."

Tywin raised an eyebrow silently as he saw Lord Hightower take a half step forward out of the corner of his eye; possibly to speak up in an attempt to dissuade his king of that action.

"However, I will allow it. You will have your Trial By Combat, and it will take place here, right now."

At a gesture from the King, the two Kingsguard holding Harlik in place released him and stepped back, repositioning themselves on either side of the steps of the Iron Throne; hands on their swords should the Oath-Breaker prove foolish and attempt to charge their ruler.

"And which of my sworn-brothers will I stand against Your Grace?" Harlik asked as he stood up, picking up his sword as it was tossed to the floor at his feet.

At this, Aerys simply smiled. "None. I will not sully the honor of my Kingsguard by asking them to cut down one of their own, even one as wretched as you Ser Bracken. No I have a different Champion in mind."

"Then who must I cut down to prove myself in the sight of the gods?" The former Kingsguard asked, clenching his fist on the grip of his sword tightly in preparation.

"Lord Lucian Blood."

Once more silence filled the Throne Room as eyes shifted from the smugly grinning King over to the surprised Lucian.

"M-My King are you sure of this?" Lord Commander Hightower asked, stepping forward as he looked over to the newly minted Lord in question. "He has no armor, no weapon. I would be prepared to stand as your Champion."

Aerys just waved a dismissive hand. "I have heard the reports that my Master of Whispers brought back to me concerning his actions in defending the lovely Lady Lannister. From what my Spider tells me, the corpses that Lord Blood left behind prove him capable to act as my Champion, even without a blade. I wish to see for myself the man that saved the life of the woman I hold most dear."

Several eyes narrowed at this.

Tywin made to speak, forcing his fury at having to endure, once again, Aerys speaking of his wife in such a manner; when Lucian stepped forward.

"I would be honored to act as your Champion in this Your Grace." The Werewolf spoke up, locking his eyes on the Oath-Breaker. "I'm not very agreeable to Oath-Breaker's myself truth be told."

"This is not some bandit Lord Blood. Regardless of the state of his honor, Ser Harlik Bracken is an experienced member of the Kingsguard who fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings." Tywin warned. He was not eager to see the Vassal he was investing in cut down so prematurely.

Lucian smiled as he unbuttoned his jacket and pulled it off before dropping it to the floor at his feet. "I am confidant I can handle myself My Lord. But I find this an opportune moment to show you my usefulness as your Vassal. And to ensure that the King see's his justice met."

Tywin took in a deep breath before nodding his assent. He understood that Lucian pointing out he desire to bring justice to the King was more an afterthought than anything else and that the primary goal was to prove himself to his new Liege-Lord. And truth be told, he didn't blame the man for the thought.

"I can have a sword brought for you. Perhaps even convince the King to have one of the Kingsguard give you theirs." He offered.

Lucian simply shook his head as he rolled the sleeves of his silk tunic up to his elbows as he turned to face the determined disgraced Knight. "This won't go on long enough for me to need one."

With that said, Lucian stepped forward, steadily advancing toward the armed and armored Knight. The King had dictated that the Trial would commence immediately so Lucian decided that he would take the man at his word and start; immediately.

Harlik was, despite his situation and the fact that everyone in the room wanted him dead, furious. That the King would name an unarmed man his Champion who was wearing only the fine clothing of a high-born noble and that said Champion would refuse the opportunity to be given at the very least a sword made him enraged.

This new pet of The Warden of the West may have been as large and imposing as a former member of the Kingsguard that had died with the previous king; Ser Duncan the Tall, but size wasn't everything. Especially when size was put up against a man in leather and plate armor wielding deadly steel.

With a snarl; Harlik raised his sword above his head, aiming to bring it down and cut the arrogant 'Champion' in two and put an end to this Trail. Once he was victorious not even the King could challenge his innocence.

It went wrong before he could even commit to the blow.

The moment Harlik was set in his stance; sword raised above his head, Lucian shot forward. Springing across the space between the two with an agility that belied his size to pass through the striking zone and into the Knight's personal space.

Reaching up Lucian grabbed Harlik's sword hand tightly, pinning his weapon in place and preventing him from swinging it down or even freeing himself to try and take a step back to reset himself.

Instead there was a sickening crack as, under the powerful grip of the man, Harlik's fingers broke and his grip on his sword loosened enough that he dropped his weapon with a hiss of pain.

"Out of consideration for The Queen, I'm going to kill you quickly." The grey eyed man intoned; his voice reaching out to all occupants of the Throne Room.

Harlik tried to headbutt the tall man and even lash out with his free hand. He was stopped when he found himself lifted off the ground and all the air in his lungs forced out when what felt like a battering ram slammed into his chest.

Lucian's fist slammed into the center of Harlik's chest with such force that not only did it partially cave in the steel Cuirass enough to put pressure on his chest so that he was having difficulty drawing in breath, but it lifted him a good foot off the ground where he hung, held aloft for a few seconds before Lucian pulled back his fist and allowed the gasping Knight to drop to the ground with a resounding crash.

Lucian didn't even wait for the man to try to get back up onto his feet. Nor did he pick him up. No, the Werewolf simply walked around the gasping Knight before, with one quick and devastating move; raised his foot and slammed it down on his neck.

There was a crack. A sickening wheeze and gurgle as Harlik tried to breath through his destroyed throat. His body shook for a moment as the Knight tried to catch his breath fingers fumbling at the straps of his armor, but after a brief moment, he stilled.

Lucian was silent as everyone in attendance looked at both him and the corpse of the former Kingsguard in a sense of astonished shock and awe. He just looked down at the man that he had just killed absently; contemplating the fact that he could have killed the man quicker. He could have kicked down on the dented Cuirass and stopped the man's heart. He could have just picked him up and snapped his neck; ending his life in an instant.

Instead, he had forced this man to die slowly from suffocation and in incredible pain from a broken spine and crushed windpipe.

With a shake of his head, Lucian dismissed those thoughts. The man was an Oath-Breaker. Regardless of what had been done to make him so, the fact remained that Lucian would not abide it and so had dealt with the man accordingly.

Walking back to where he had dropped his coat, Lucian slipped it back on before turning back to face a widely grinning Aerys; eyes alight with an expression of mad glee at what he had just witnessed.

"With your permission Your Grace, I would like to retire to my quarters." Lucian spoke up with a bow of his head. "I feel the need to bathe myself."

Aerys nodded; eyes fixed on the corpse of Harlik Bracken as if it was the most wonderful thing he had seen all week.

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N**

**Alrighty then.**

**So first of all, regarding the final moments of this chapter: we've never killed anyone before or put in any real thought regarding how it would be for someone to die like this so obviously we have no idea how long it would take for someone like Harlik to choke to death as he did from the injuries Lucien inflicted on him. For the sake of momentum, we went with some relative quickness.**

**As for the rest of the chapter; there you go!**

**Lord Lucian Blood of Castamere!**

**For people that are not on board with the idea of such a powerful werewolf being a 'beta bitch' to a mere human; we would like to remind you that this is a man that at one point in his life served as a Knight for the betterment of all others. It is what he is familiar with and what he would be comfortable returning to.**

**So...well… GET OVER IT!**

**Now regarding Lucian's remembering of Vlad in the sense of both friend and monster:**

**It is the way he chooses to remember the man that made him a Knight and became his friend. Vlad was his friend, Dracula was the monster who murdered his friend and wore his face.**

**Next week; Zero Chakra Plan….hopefully.**

**Read, review, favorite, review, follow, review.**

**(If you don't get our very careful and subtle hinting….we really want reviews for this. We would like to see Never Alone become a popular GoT story as if is the first of this field of Xover.)**


	5. Preperations

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own the collective works of Van Helsing, Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or anything that may come into the following **Fan made** piece of fiction. This is meant for enjoyment alone.

"By the words of my house know that I am Never Alone." speech.

'_wow, I didn't think stupidity could come in such a small package as that Joffrey cunt._' thought/flashback monologuing.

"█▄▄██▄▄▄██▄▄█" Wolf howl/roar/etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

Previously:

_Walking back to where he had dropped his coat, Lucian slipped it back on before turning back to face a widely grinning Aerys; eyes alight with an expression of mad glee at what he had just witnessed._

"_With your permission Your Grace, I would like to retire to my quarters." Lucian spoke up with a bow of his head. "I feel the need to bathe myself."_

_Aerys nodded; eyes fixed on the corpse of Harlik Bracken as if it was the most wonderful thing he had seen all week._

XxxXxxXxxX

**265 A.C**

Lucian Blood. Lord of the ruins of Castamere under the authority of his Liege-Lord Tywin Lannister. For a man who had been just a few short years ago nothing more than a pet and before that a commoner Knight, it was quite the step up.

Currently the man was ascending the many steps up to the Tower of the Hand; a thoughtful frown on his face as he considered his place here, in King's Landing.

With Castamere still under reconstruction by order and funding of the Houses of both Lannister and Targaryen, the Wolf had been living in the Red Keep under the hospitality of both the King himself and the Hand of the King; his Lord Tywin Lannister.

For the duration of his stay at King's Landing, Tywin had been educating Lucian in everything he needed to know in order to smoothly make the transition into the life of a high-born noble. The castle's Grand-Maester Pycelle had been teaching Lucian in the more fundamental and basic knowledge, helping him learn the letters and words of Westeros' written language as well as many other fields that all children of nobility learnt from a young age.

Under Tywin, Lucian had learned practically everything he needed. Tywin had engaged his new vassal in hypothetical scenarios and simulations to properly teach taxation and the requirements for if and when a call-to-arms was sent out.

It had been, different from what Lucian was more comfortable with. In his time back in Romania when he had squired under Vladislaus, he had not been taught as to how his old friend had managed the taxes and upkeep of his lands.

It had been a month ago that Tywin had announced that Lucian was as prepared as he could be for when Castamere was ready to receive him. Pycelle had completed his education and Lucian's grasp of the politics and finer details of ruler-ship as a Vassal lord was competent to Lannister standards. Meaning he could outshine the Vassal Lords of both the Riverlands _and _the Reach.

This also meant that there was nothing really for him to do in King's Landing any longer. He had been able to keep himself busy through the need for education in order to step into this new life that had been given to him and now, with that out of the way, there was little for him do to.

Thankfully Tywin had been able to provide an answer.

Joanna was Pregnant.

The wife of the Lion of the Rock had visited several weeks ago to see her husband as well as allow the twin's Jaime and Cersei to spend time with their father now that they were more, active. During that visit it seemed, the Lady Lannister had returned to Casterly Rock with child.

Tywin had been overjoyed upon the delivery of the news via Raven and had wasted no time in instructing Lucian that he would be making way to Casterly Rock where he would stand as protection for her over the duration of her pregnancy.

It had been quite humbling for him when Lucian had been asked to keep Joanna safe. It told of the trust and comfort that Tywin had in him to watch over his wife whom the young Warden loved above all else. That Tywin had faith enough in him to not only keep his beloved wife safe from harm, but that he believed in Lucian's loyalty enough to trust that the wolf would make no untoward advances on his wife.

It had been, a pleasant feeling for Lucian that day, to learn of the trust and regard his new friend had already gained toward him.

He was set to make the journey back west, all packed and quite looking forward to the opportunity to traverse the distance in his wolf form and enjoy the wind on his fur and the exercise when a declaration had been made by the King.

A tourney, held in the honor of the Crown Prince Rhaegar's sixth Name Day set to be held in just under a months time over the course of seven days of festivities and contests. Already Aerys had the Master of Games preparing the field and overseeing construction of the stands and barriers for the Joust as well as the other competitions that would be scheduled for the Tournament such as the Melee and the Archery contest.

It was the reason why Lucian was on his way to speak with Tywin. His standing instruction was to make way for Casterly Rock. But with the tourney and the King's expectation of attendance, there was some uncertainty of what exactly he was expected to do.

"I take it you have learned of the King's latest mad scheme?" Tywin spoke up as Lucian entered the room, not even looking up from his work as the large man made entry.

"The castle staff are still in gossip over who will compete." Lucian commented as he stepped over to the side of Tywin's office and poured himself a glass of wine. "Last I heard there is a wager going on amongst them as to how long before Ser Barristan announces his participation."

Tywin scoffed as he pressed his Seal as Hand into a lump of melted wax that held close a missive. "Ser Barristan is Kingsguard. As someone charged with the protection of the King and his family, a Kingsguard cannot afford to be seen as lesser than any other. If he does compete it will be in the Joust only."

Lucian 'hmm'ed' thoughtfully as he sipped at his drink. Barristan Selmy was considered quite a gifted swordsman. Most if not all the betting that the castle servants were engaging in was concerning his participation in the Melee. They were sure to be disappointed when they learned of this little detail.

"And you?"

The grey eyed man looked over to the golden haired lord, raising an eyebrow in silent question.

"Which event will you be partaking in?"

"That was actually why I came here." Lucian admitted. "I am set to make way to Casterly Rock and now the King announces a tournament for the Prince."

Tywin nodded in understanding, silently pleased that Lucian had chosen to come to him with the query of who's order to follow; the order of his Lord which is to go to Casterly Rock. Or that of the King which would be to compete. That it was even a question at all gave proof that the new Lord of Castamere had given his fealty to Casterly Rock and not the Iron Throne.

"It would be an unneeded slight against the Crown to not take part in tournament when you were here in King's Landing when its coming was announced." Tywin commented thoughtfully. "No I believe that it would be best for you to remain here just until Prince Rhaegar's Name Day celebration is done with."

Lucian nodded in understanding. In the years following his arrival at King's Landing Aerys had started to lose interest in him. But that loss of interest was not enough to fail to notice if he, a newly appointed Lord, departed and was therefore absent from an event that The King himself had declared.

"So which will you put your name to?"

The tall Werewolf eased himself into the chair opposite Tywin, offering a second glass of wine he had poured to the man before leaning back and nursing his own. "We had Jousting in my homeland. It was, originally, a tactic for mounted warfare before it was used as a competitive sport. I have little interest in something that has been turned into what is essentially a game for children playing at war."

Tywin nodded in understanding. It had come up a number of times over the passed three years. The difference that Lucian had taken note of in the Knights of Westeros compared to the Order of Knights he had come from in his homeland of Romania. His large friend had pointed out that he had found Westerosi Knights seemed more concerned with the image of the shining Knight than with combat and warfare as it was where he had come from.

By Lucian's standard a Knight was to be the best soldier on the battlefield. A commander who fought harder and longer. The first to enter and the last to leave. A Tourney was meant to serve as a means for the common folk to see their protectors in a more peaceful light to foster trust and respect.

Not for the nobility to canter about in an event of self-glorious vanity.

"If anything I suppose I will compete in the Melee." Lucian concluded with a shrug. "Archery was never something I particularly excelled in beyond simple hunting. And it has been a long, long time since I last raced on a horse."

"Very well, I will have the Master of Games informed and your signature added to those entering the Melee." Tywin said with an approving nod. "Already I have heard that my good friend Steffon Baratheon has put his name to the Melee. I believe I will quite enjoy seeing who will emerge the victor."

Lucian cocked an eyebrow and offered an amused smirk to his lord and friend. "Why my Lord, I did not know you harboured such bloodlust. Should I expect to see you in the ring as well?"

Tywin scoffed, the faintest of smiles belying the seemingly strict and disapproving noise. "And find myself under the boot of either Steffon or yourself? I think not. I think I will indulge myself with the Archery contest."

"The Hand of the King proving his skill with a bow? It seems the both of us will enjoy some amusing sights in the coming month."

"You might enjoy it, but I do believe that a great many others will be reminded of the danger my reach still presents." Tywin replied with a glint in his eye. "A chance to remind people of the 'Rains of Castamere' as it were."

"Which reminds me." Lucian paused for a moment, considering his words thoughtfully. "The Rains of Castamere. From my lessons I understand that it is the song of how you were able to quell a rebellion in the Westerlands. A Rebellion started by the house that once owned the lands that you gifted to me."

Tywin nodded in confirmation. "Yes. Under the rule of my father, the vassal lords of the Westerlands took loans from House Lannister continuously without first paying any preceding debts. When I returned from the War of the Ninepenny King's I along with my brothers sought to restore the power of our house. I called for the repayment of all debts. Those without the ability to settle would instead send a hostage as collateral."

Lucian remembered as much. It had been one of the things that annoying toady Pycelle had seemed to take great pleasure trying to beat into his head. The ultimate lesson; never mess with the Lions of Casterly Rock.

"There were two houses that refused to fall into line. House Tarbeck of Tarbeck Hall and House Reyne of Castamere. They foolishly believed that under my father's rule they could dictate terms and force their Lord to act to their whims." Tywin's expression hardened and his fists clenched in anger at the remembered defiance. "My father was more than happy to bend to those traitors. I was not. When the Tarbeck's and Reyne's renounced their fealty to my House and declared open rebellion I gathered an army and marched on their homes."

"Where you proceeded to slaughter them en masse, down to the last man, woman and child." Lucian spoke up.

"You disapprove." It was not a question but a statement. Tywin could hear it, however faint, in the other man's voice.

Lucian simply shrugged. "In a perfect world? Yes I would. But in this kind of situation; where a statement must be delivered to reach beyond this conflict? It was a necessary evil. I simply hope that it is something that you understand that, necessary or not, evil is still evil."

Tywin's hard gaze softened only a fraction as he nodded minutely; grateful to hear of his friends acceptance of his actions as well as pleased to hear an honest remark and advice in the wake of it. He could count his Brother Kevan and his Wife Joanna as the only people who had the courage to speak so honestly to him instead of simply agreeing out of fear of reprisal. To have another who was not afraid to speak above his station and to do so honestly.

Truly Lord Lucian Blood would be a great boon to both himself, and his family.

"And so came 'The Rains of Castamere'. A cautionary song of warning to all those who would consider rebellion against me and mine." Tywin concluded.

"Something that has been quite successful in the four years since. Which leads me to the problem I face."

Lucian rose from his seat and moved over to the side of the office where he refilled his glass before holding the jug of wine up in silent offer to Tywin who simply waved a hand in refusal.

"If I am to take possession of Castamere and rule its land's for you, I am afraid that the legend you have created will either lose its sting or prevent me from establishing myself amongst the other Vassal Lords."

It was an understandable conclusion. There was no connection between the newly created House of Blood; consisting of only Lucian himself, but the name Castamere had become synonymous with rebellion and treachery. The reputation of House Blood would be tarnished from its inception.

"Reconstruction is underway at Castamere. You cannot be suggesting construction of a new castle instead. Not after three years of gold and effort has already been put into that place."

Lucian shook his head, pausing to drain his cup of wine in a single gulp. "No that is not my thought. I was more in line with the thinking of a, change of identity for Castamere. I have, just as you I am sure, received Raven's carrying designs for a revision of much of Castamere's layout. With a new name it would be much easier to simply claim that, well, that the Rains of Castamere have finally washed away and a new castle has been built in its place."

The young Warden of the West nodded in thought. He liked the little poetic wording Lucian had offered in 'The Rains of Castamere washing away,' it was something that Joanna would have openly laughed at. Overall though, it was well within the realm of reason.

"And what would you call this new castle of yours? If it is to truly no longer be Castamere, what then, will be the home of the Lord of Blood?"

"Hearthstone."

XxxX

There was a sound of metal tapping against metal that broke through the regular sounds of activity in the Red Keep's Bailey, with the Castle's men-at-arms and workers that maintained the Keep's Stable and maintenance facilities glancing over every so often at the Smithy.

It was only a week till the Crown Prince's Name Day Tourney. Lords, Knights; sworn, landed and hedge alike all had been pouring into the city for days now in preparation for the event. Some the King had personally greeted; usually those coming from one of the Great Houses such as the Lord Paramount of the Trident Hoster Tully, while simply directed to the cleaner areas of King's Landing where lodging had been prepared for them.

None of that was really in the mind of those that worked and passed through the Bailey though. Initial discussion and gossip over the arrival of the different lords was brief and quickly concluded. But the strange Lord that had seemingly taken over the Keep Forge for over two weeks now, that held a bit more curiosity.

While it was never said aloud, many of the men who worked the Bailey had been amused at first; the very thought of a Lord working a Smith, it just left them all with the amusing sight of that Lord running out having burned or injured himself with nothing but a lump of twisted metal or fragments to show for it.

After a week however, their expectations were, revised.

The occasional peek into the Smith to see what this Lord was doing left many if not all witnesses very near awe at what they had seen.

A giant of a man, nearly seven feet in height, eyes as hard as the steel that he worked and powerful lean muscles pulled tight under bare skin working in heat that even the Keep's resident Blacksmith would have only done under the protection of his apron. Rumor had spread of this man of course. The new Lord elevated to station by the Hand of the King.

Lucian Blood.

Everyone had heard of how he had brutally executed an Oath-Breaker three years passed with nought but his bare hands. Of how he had bested a Kingsguard unarmed and killed the man as easily as one would step on a spider.

And here he was, working the Forge as if he had been born to it.

For Lucian himself, despite the calm nature of his outward expression; was feeling a touch of frustration.

It had been a _very _long time since he had last worked a Forge. Not since before his imprisonment in Castle Dracula when time would allow for him to visit his father. He still remembered the steps and methodology well enough, in fact as time went on in the Red Keep's Smithy he had found that his need to refer to the journals of his father that he had liberated from Dracula's hands has lessened.

Jacob; the man that served as the Red Keep's live in Blacksmith had been quite helpful, collecting the materials he needed for his work. The man hadn't even raised question as to the nature of some of the, stranger things that had been asked for nor raised complaint when Lucian had effectively banished the man from his own workshop.

Lucian did not want the man figuring out the secrets that his father had left for him. The secret behind the forging of Damascus Steel.

It has taken more time than he would have preferred. A small number of failed attempts due to his own failure in timing as well as imperfections in the hammering process. But after a week of tireless progress and modification of his efforts; refining his methods and timing, Lucian was successful.

The shaping and molding of the many pieces of his work was what was now taking its time. He had, by now been forced to abandon the large equipment and tools in favor of smaller, more delicate tools as the pieces got smaller. Shaping out a knuckle and finger joint with careful precision.

Gauntlets. That was what he was making. He wasn't all that concerned with forging a blade or some kind of traditional weapon to use for the Melee. It had been so long since he had last held a blade that he felt he would first need to train himself back into familiarity before using one in a live combat situation. He was not in the mood to embarrass himself trying to use something he had not held for four hundred years.

No, he considered that, for now, it would be best that he rely on the weapon he had grown to rely upon whenever Dracula had thrown him into his fighting pits to entertain him and his wives.

His claws.

He could not shift his form in so public a place as a Tourney Melee. Not only was it severe overkill for such a small thing, but it would serve only to make him a monster in the eyes of everyone watching. He had the physical strength and agility to handle himself, he just needed to weaponize his hands.

He had specifically smelted the metal with a black dye to alter the color of the metal and had thus far been able to properly shape and forge the joints and plates to needed to assemble the Gauntlets with only the final joints for the right index finger needing final adjustments.

It was a couple of hours later, when he was in the process of assembly and heating up the pins to properly secure the joints and hinges of the Gauntlet to allow for as much articulation as possible when he heard two steady heartbeats approaching from behind.

Turning his head to peer over his shoulder; Lucian took note of a carefully stoic Tywin; containing his curiosity for what he was doing, and another man. The man that had accompanied the Young Lannister Lord was a large figure, perhaps only a couple of inches shorter than he himself was and with a powerfully built figure with muscle visible even under the fine silk shirt that covered his arms. Short windswept black hair and a neatly trimmed beard with bright, glinting blue eyes completed the image of a strong, youthful man.

"Still hard at work. The Tourney starts a week hence and the Melee itself the fourth day in. will you be ready?" Tywin commented as he had his companion made proper entry into the Smithy.

Lucian nodded briefly before turning back to his work. "I'm in the final stages of assembly now. Perhaps two, three days of stress testing and I should be ready enough."

"Very well then." Tywin seemed satisfied with that. "Allow me to make introductions then. Lord Lucian Blood, this is an old friend of mine; the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands Steffon Baratheon."

Lucian stepped away from his work and turned to face the introduced Lord Paramount, recognising that some respect was needed given the clear difference in station. With a quick bow, Lucian greeted the only slightly shorter man. "My Lord."

Steffon just unleashed a massive grin and stepped forward to slap his hands down on Lucian's bare shoulders. "HA! So formal! No wonder this Little Lion picked you up!"

Tywin shook his head slightly, used to the Lord of Storm's End's antics enough to not take offence.

"When Tywin told me he had picked up a new Lord for his lands I feared he had found another tiny little boot-licker more interested in shiny gold and soft women." Steffon boomed loudly, stepping back from the bare chested Wolf to get a good look at him. "I see that I could not have been more wrong. I think the last time I ever had to look up at a man was when I was but a boy and my own father was still Lord of Storm's End."

Lucian cocked an eyebrow. "I have heard of the current Lord of the Stormlands. Given your age, I would assume this was only a few weeks ago when you were a boy?"

Steffon lost his smile, staring at the Werewolf intently for a moment. Lucian was beginning to believe that he had overstepped; gotten the wrong impression of this man's temperament when he saw the Baratheon's shoulder's shaking.

"HA! That's good!" Steffon laughed loudly, his entire body seeming to shake with every heave of laughter that burst out from him. "Be warned though. I may be still in my youth, but I'll best you in the Melee regardless."

Lucian shrugged. This man definitely looked physically able. More so than many of the men that he had seen in the Red Keep. He had been able to get a faint idea of the strength Steffon Baratheon. possessed by the power of his grip when Steffon had clapped his hands down on his shoulders. He was quite strong for a human. Stronger than anyone he could actually recall from his days in the Holy Order in fact.

"You intend to partake in the Melee?" The former Romanian asked.

"The Long Night could not stop me my friend!" Steffon boomed. "As a favor to my good friend Tywin I shall do my best to not cave in your skull with my hammer."

Lucian replied with a toothy grin; he liked this man. "And I'll do my best not to leave you face first in the mud during the opening round."

Tywin shook his head and stepped forward, reaching out to push a hand against Steffon's chest; the man allowing himself to be pushed back a step. "Enough. You can posture later. Show me what you have been working on Lucian. I have spoken to the Blacksmith and he could give me no answers."

Lucian nodded in compliance and turned to pick up the right handed gauntlet. It was the one he had been assembling first and only the thumb was missing. Inserting his hand into the black plated armor and adjusting the fit, he turned back and held it up for examination.

"I have yet to fit it onto leather and detail the final touches, but, well here you go."

Tywin blinked in confusion. "It's armor."

"Yes."

"I thought you said you intended to forge a weapon for the Melee."

Lucian smirked and, rolling his wrist and flexing his fingers, walked over to where a wooden stand was holding a steel plate Cuirass on display. Cocking his fist back he stepped forward and into a punch that snapped out and into the steel plated armor.

There was a sound of metal on metal and a brief shriek of steel tearing. When Lucian pulled his hand back, Steffon's eyes were wide open in astonishment when he saw the sizeable dent that had been driven into the Cuirass and the small jagged rip in the steel where the gauntlet's ridged and sharpened knuckles had punctured through.

Looking from the armor and to the gauntlet; seeing that the armor covering the man's hand was still completely intact Steffon frowned. "That's not possible. Even with the strength to actually dent plate armor, the gauntlet should have also deformed with the blow. What is that made of?"

"Valyrian Steel."

Steffon turned back to Tywin quickly at this, shock on his face. He saw the Hand of the King standing by the work bench, examining a knuckle that was part of the left hand assembly. Walking up behind the golden haired man he peered over his friends shoulder and gaped when he saw the iconic rippling effect that was unique to the legendary blades of Old Valyria.

"Valyrian Steel armor? I would have thought-"

"It's not Valyrian Steel." Lucian interrupted, inciting only further astonishment from the two Lord Paramounts. "According to the Grand-Maester's lessons; Valyrian Steel requires Magic in its forging and it is believed that Dragon Fire is needed to properly create it. I have no Magic, no Dragon Fire. What you have there, is Damascus Steel. The product of a style of ore smelting and forging from my homeland and my Father."

"Amazing. It looks just like Valyrian Steel." Tywin commented, holding the knuckle piece up to the light and watching as the ripples seemed to move like water in the shifting light.

"There are similarities between the two." Lucian confessed. "Damascus Steel forged blades are extremely durable and can hold a sharper edge than normal steel and iron. But it lacks the enduring quality that I am told Valyrian Steel possesses."

"And you possess the knowledge to create more of this Damascus Steel?" Tywin asked, a glint in his eye as he returned the knuckle back to the work bench.

"In my homeland, the secrets of Damascus Steel originate from a different name called Wootz Steel. The secrets to create this were kept in a small, isolated society." Lucian explained. "I originally come from a family of Blacksmiths and in his youth; my father travelled the land to expand upon his knowledge of the trade. He returned home the only outsider to know the secrets to forging this alloy. That knowledge passed down to me."

There was a brief moment of silence in the Smithy, as both Steffon and Tywin looked at the rippled metal and swallowed this new knowledge of a metal that could potentially be compared to the legendary metal of the Valyrian Freehold that had since been lost to the Doom.

"Well then. You do know what this means don't you Tywin?" Steffon asked, surprisingly mellow and calm.

Tywin simply raised an eyebrow and looked at his taller friend with a warning look in his eye.

Steffon simply grinned widely. "If you're not careful, I might just convince House Blood to find their future in the Stormlands instead."

Lucian scoffed under his breath and muttered '_unlikely_' softly as he walked over to the workbench, returning to his work.

Tywin, who had heard the whispered mutter allowed a smile to form on his face before it turned into a challenging smirk.

"Good luck."

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N:**

**Alrighty then. As is the usual. This is the latest chapter for Never Alone (_obviously_)_. _The opening part of a two part chapter to introduce some more GoT characters and maybe some new ones.**

**We hope you all like our characterisation of Steffon Baratheon.; Robert, Stannis and Renly's father. His personality was built upon a general impression we got from seeing what he looked like in the awoiaf webpage. He just looks like...well; Game of Throne Thor with black hair really.**

**At this point in time the main GoT cast are just children or not even born yet really. So the older generation like Tywin, Steffon, Hoster and the Queen of Thorns in their youth are all up and about.**

**Next week should be Zero Chakra Plan.**

**Read. Favorite. Follow, review….and maybe recommend to others if you wouldn't mind. Lets see if we can't get Never Alone more widespread.**

**Later Bitches! *drops mic***


	6. Melee

Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own the collective works of Van Helsing, Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or anything that may come into the following **Fan made** piece of fiction. This is meant for enjoyment alone.

"By the words of my house know that I am Never Alone." speech.

'_wow, I didn't think stupidity could come in such a small package as that Joffrey cunt._' thought/flashback monologuing.

"█▄▄██▄▄▄██▄▄█" Wolf howl/roar/etc.

XxxXxxXxxX

Previously:

"_In my homeland, the secrets of Damascus Steel originate from a different name called Wootz Steel. The secrets to create this were kept in a small, isolated society." Lucian explained. "I originally come from a family of Blacksmiths and in his youth; my father travelled the land to expand upon his knowledge of the trade. He returned home the only outsider to know the secrets to forging this alloy. That knowledge passed down to me."_

_There was a brief moment of silence in the Smithy, as both Steffon and Tywin looked at the rippled metal and swallowed this new knowledge of a metal that could potentially be compared to the legendary metal of the Valyrian Freehold that had since been lost to the Doom._

"_Well then. You do know what this means don't you Tywin?" Steffon asked, surprisingly mellow and calm._

_Tywin simply raised an eyebrow and looked at his taller friend with a warning look in his eye._

_Steffon simply grinned widely. "If you're not careful, I might just convince House Blood to find their future in the Stormlands instead."_

_Lucian scoffed under his breath and muttered 'unlikely' softly as he walked over to the workbench, returning to his work._

_Tywin, who had heard the whispered mutter allowed a smile to form on his face before it turned into a challenging smirk._

"_Good luck."_

XxxXxxXxxX

**1454 a.d (anno Domini)**

"Again."

His chest ached. Heaving and pressing against the steel plate of his chest armor as he fought for air; lungs burning from the effort.

A part of him was annoyed that what his Master had said had been proven true; that he would reach a point where the weight of his armor would not bother him any longer. Well he was at that point. If only because the ache of his chest and lungs bothered him more.

He felt his Master kick him in the side, the clang of a boot impacting against steel ringing in his ears. Rolling away from the blow, Lucian clambered tiredly first to his knees and then climbing to his feet. His gauntlet covered hands slipped off his knees from the mud that covered them and the fatigue that shook his legs very nearly had him eating dirt once more, but he managed to widen his stance enough to steady himself.

An approving hum from the side and Lucian resumed his run.

The training grounds were thick and slippery with mud, loose dirt and puddles of water. Master had claimed that it had rained the previous night but Lucian could still see servants throwing buckets of water out ahead of him every now and again. The poor footing had made the exercise difficult from its inception, threatening to sweep him off his feet and injure himself. It had succeeded more than a few times by the end of his thirty laps of the grounds outer perimeter, his right leg ached from a badly positioned fall and he had sprained his left wrist when he had foolishly tried to catch himself in a fall instead of rolling into it as he had been trained.

It had been a cold morning. It still was a cold morning, if the furs that were wrapped around his faintly smirking Master was any indication. It wasn't cold for Lucian. The exercise, armor and its thick padding had him dripping with sweat as his skin burned.

It took far longer than he liked to complete another lap of the grounds. Fatigue was destroying his will to continue and every breath he heaved in seemed to take more effort than the previous.

Three more laps into this second round had the sixteen year old boy gritting his teeth with anger and his eyes prickling with frustrated tears. Master expected much from him, but only because he had already given him so much. And what was Lucian giving? Failure and weakness.

"Enough."

Lucian wanted to continue despite the order. He wanted to do at least another lap to prove that he was worthy of the attention and consideration afforded him. He even made a few more meters of progress after his Master had spoken.

But then his legs gave out underneath him and he collapsed to the ground. Muddied water splashed against his face through the gaps in his helm and a pain in his chest gave indication that this latest fall may have bruised a rib, but still Lucian tried to get back up. When his legs could find no purchase on the slippery ground he tried to dig them in. when he could find no strength to do so he then tried to drag himself forward with just his arms.

The blood pounding in his ears prevented him from hearing the squelching sound of boots nearing him just as the muddied water in his eyes prevented him from seeing anyone approaching.

He did however, feel it, when he was suddenly flipped over onto his back and a hand, grasping at the collar of his chest piece hauling him to a somewhat seated position.

His helm was removed from his face and a damp wash cloth cleaned the mud and sweat from his face, clearing his vision.

A stoic faced Vladislaus looked back at him, still holding him upright by the neck of his armor and tossing aside the washcloth with the other.

"I told you to stop. Why did you try to continue?"

Lucian averted his gaze, feeling shame fill him at what he felt was disappointment in the eyes of the man that had taken him in and given him so much. "I, I had to."

"Why?"

"It wasn't enough." Lucian bit out, regret mounting within him from his shame at this failure. "I have to do more, like the other Knights and Squires."

Vladislaus' expression didn't change, instead turning his eyes from the grey eyed boy to look around the grounds to the others watching on. "You speak of the Squires who under went this training before you?"

Lucian nodded, letting out a gasp as the effort tired him out further.

"You ran a total of thirty-four laps." The older man spoke, as his eyes turned to the grounds themselves and its current condition. "In a field of mud and water meant to trip you and hinder you."

"Only thirty four." Lucian agreed. "Please forgive my weakness Master. I, I wanted to do better. I _will _do better. I can be just as strong as the others. I can be worthy of my place here."

"Oh?" Vladislaus raised an eyebrow, as if amused by the declaration. "So you think you can be just as good as the other Knights under my command?"

Lucian felt his heart plummet. Feeling the implication in these words. That his weakness had been at such a level that the gap between him and the truly worthy Knights and Squires was simply too great.

"You ran a total of thirty four laps in a field that has never seen any other run even half that number, you are already far better than them already my Squire."

XxxX

**265 A.C**

It was within the ready tent that Lucian ran a final check over his equipment for the Melee. Surrounded by a throng of fellow competitors from around the Seven Kingdoms and beyond and with the air thick with the cheers and roars of the massive crowd that had come to spectate, Lucian blocked them all out.

Compared to a great number of other participants with their gleaming armor and swords, Lucian was so lightly armored it bordered on non-existent. Leather boots and pants and a simple jerkin that left his arms bare were all that Lucian was wearing to provide any sort of protection from the dangers of the Melee and for all appearances, he had no weapon to speak of.

Already more than a few of the others had sneered at him and voiced their opinions regarding how quickly he was going to be gutted.

He ignored them all. The various Sell-Swords and mercenaries were better armed and prepared for this Melee than the Lords were. With the exception of Lord Baratheon; who could be seen roaring with laughter off to the side and another who bore the sigil of a yellow squid, the highborn participants were all clad in armor that was better suited for a parade than actual combat. Lucian could have sworn he actually saw some moron in armor that was crafted from actual silver.

Dismissing the pointless line of thought, the man returned his attention to his hands, or rather, the ripple patterned black gauntlets that covered them. Flexing his fingers one by one to allow the gauntlets to settle properly into place and rolling his wrist for a final check in order to assure that the connecting joints at the wrist that tied to the forearm brace didn't catch. When everything seemed to be in order he clenched his hands into tight fists and squeezed. A few nearby winced at the sound of screeching metal as his strength tried to deform the Damascus Steel. Re-opening and a quick examination revealed that there was only the most minor of scratches from where the sharpened ridges and tips of the fingers had pressed against the palms.

With a small, satisfied smirk, Lucian pressed his hands against his knees and rose to his feet, forcing those nearest to him who had previously sneered at him to back up and their eyes widen as his true size was revealed.

Lucian's standing had proven to achieve a secondary result when the still laughing Steffon seemed to bound over.

"Blood! Good to see you here my friend!" The young Lord practically shouted as he slapped a hand down heavily on Lucian's shoulder. "I see you are still determined to enter this bout with nought but your fists."

Lucian glanced over Steffon's shoulder to eye the impressive stag headed War-hammer that was strapped to the man's back before shrugging. "Well considering I do not believe you could find a larger hammer, I felt it would be best to limit myself. To give you a fighting chance you understand."

Steffon's eyes widened at the barb before he slapped Lucian's shoulder once more and threw his head back in another roar of laughter. "A fighting chance! Hah! Perhaps Tywin should have made you his fool with such japes about you."

The werewolf found a similar smile growing on his face as he reached out to place a hand, carefully, on Steffon's own shoulder. "Regardless, I think that Lord Lannister will laugh no less when he see's you eating dirt this day."

Another bark of laughter left the mouth of the Lord of Storm's End before a hard glint crossed over Steffon's blue eyes. "I will certainly look for you out there in the field my friend."

Lucian simply replied with a nod as the tent flap was pulled back and a sounding horn went off, announcing that the Melee was upon them.

XxxX

Forty people. Gathered together in a dirt covered field with nothing more than a waist high wooden fence to separate them from the spectators eager for the blood-letting to start.

The Royal box was positioned above all others to provide a completely uninterrupted view of the bout. King Aerys was already leaning forward in anticipation while the Queen appeared to be in a quiet talk with one of her handmaiden's. Seated next to the King was a small child, silver haired and purple eyed like the king and queen giving indication that it could be no-one but the one for which this Tourney was set to honor; Rhaegar Targaryen.

The Tourney Crier had given announcement of the notable contestants, lords and Knights from prominent places within the Seven Kingdoms, Lucian had noted but not cared all that much when his name had been announced. The reactions of many of the other Lords and Knights had distracted them from their surroundings. The idiot lord clad in silver armor had very nearly tripped himself up when he had kicked up a rock under his own feet while making a full turn to take in the cheering of the crowd.

He would be one of the first to be eliminated for sure.

A Hush fell when the King rose to his feet, a wide but pleasant smile on his face as he stretched his arms out to his people.

"This Tourney has been set to celebrate the Name Day of my son; your Crown Prince Rhaegar, but it is this very day that marks his Sixth Name Day." Aerys paused a the crowd erupted into cheers, something that seemed to visibly please him at watching the adoration towards his line. "And what better way to mark my son's continued health than for these brave men to fight for their own. The last man standing will emerge with the sweat and blood of victory and the wealth of twenty thousand gold dragons!"

Another cheer erupted, this time many of the competitors joining in, each dreaming of what they could do with that kind of coin.

"Fight well, fight hard." Aerys commanded. "I, Aerys Targaryen King of the Andals and the First Men command this Melee; BEGIN!"

The field erupted into a collective roar as the combatants all burst into action. The two men to Lucian's immediate right and left both turned to charge him first; no doubt considering him an easy target for the first elimination considering his lack of tangible armor and distinct lack of weaponry.

The man to his right was heavy with plated armor and charging with his arms held high gripping a cumbersome longsword.

The man to Lucian's left appeared to be a Sell-sword and was clad in more functional, battle tested armor. Chain-mail on leather with a plain looking arming sword on one hand and a kite shield in the other.

Lucian turned away from the Sell-sword and stepped into the charge of the Hedge-Knight. The Knight's charge was clumsy and wild. There was no apparent skill with how the man held the sword over his head as Lucian could already tell that the grip was too tight and would allow for nothing but a simple and easily predicted overhead swing.

Three long steps was all it took to meet the Knight's charge and step into his guard. It was too quick for the Knight to swing his sword down; something the charging man seemed to notice from how his eyes widened in surprise from beneath his helm.

When the Hedge-Knight tried to swing his sword down regardless, most likely hoping that it would force the unarmed Lucian to retreat or dodge, the Werewolf instead reached up and wrapped one hand around the two handed grip of the other Knight. Holding tight enough so that the Knight was unable to free himself or even discard his weapon, Lucian reached down and grabbed the bottom of the man's chestplate tightly.

The metal screeched and deformed slightly from the power of his grip as Lucian pivoted on the spot and shifted his attention to the still charging Sell-sword. It was a sight that stole the voices of all witnesses as Lucian picked up and threw the heavily armored knight as if he weighed no more than a sack of straw right into the Sell-sword. The now screaming Knight slammed directly into the lighter armored man with all the force of a charging horse and knocked the Sell-sword clean off his feet and back several feet. Both the impact of the Knight himself and then the both of them hitting the floor was enough to knock out the Sell-sword completely.

The Hedge-Knight, while quite shaken from the unconventional tactic, was able to maintain enough of his senses to struggle to his hands and knees.

The last thing that man saw before he too joined his fellow competitor in blissful unconsciousness was the heel of a very large boot crashing into his face.

Lucian turned away from his first two victims of the day, only faintly noticing that his kick against the armored head of the Knight had left quite the dent against it.

His eyes quickly found his next target, a weaselly looking man with watery eyes in chainmail and steel plate with a chainmail coif covering his head holding a small one handed axe in one hand with a wooden buckler shield bearing a sigil of two blue towers on a field of silvery grey strapped at his forearm.

Whatever confidence this man could have held before had quickly evaporated at the sight of what Lucian had just done to the two men behind him and as Lucian advanced toward him, the quite pathetic looking man stumbled back in fear, raising his shield as if it would ward the smiling wolf away.

Lucian just cocked his fist back and stepped into a punch. His fist impacted dead center of the shield, right between two twin blue towers with such force that the shield shattered; breaking apart like kindling against the devastating force of Lucian's Talon. The weasel-man didn't even have time to cry out in pain as his arm broke from the force of the blow before Lucian's fist continued right into the side of his head; dropping him to the ground.

Twenty seconds in, three men down.

Lucian rolled his shoulders before turning his head away from the latest of his, 'opponents'. Around him many of those remaining were locked in combat with one another. Already he could see a couple more men who had been taken out of the Melee; mostly those who had been clad in either ill-fitted armor or found themselves unfortunate enough to face an opponent of superior skill.

Lucian could both see and hear Steffon from the far side of the field, swinging his Hammer to devastating effect all the while mocking and laughing those that he felled.

Another that caught his eye was a young man in armor of plate and chain-mail with a house sigil of a silver fish on a field of blue and red proudly displayed on his chest swiftly disarming another Knight before backhanding the pommel of his sword against the Knights bared face.

Lucian's attention was brought back to his immediate area when he leaned his upper body back, just as a small hatchet flew by.

That the thrown axe buried itself into the back of an unsuspecting Sell-sword was ignored as the Grey eyed Werewolf turned to fully face his attacker.

Tall, nearing a height of Steffon but still noticeably shorter than Lucian himself. This challenger wore a chain-link shirt worn over a leather gambeson a thick belt wrapped around his waist held four iron hoops; one holding a hatchet similar to the one that had been already thrown at him and two holding a pair of larger, bearded axes.

This man's face was only partially covered by a bowl helm with a nose guard. A full beard braided down to his collar obscured the rest of his face and a badge of a yellow sea monster; a Kraken was affixed to the right side of his chest.

"You're strong for a Greenlander!" The man shouted, reached down and pulling out his two axes to hold them at the ready.

Lucian merely shrugged. Anything he could say in reply to that statement would be nothing more than a boast. Words were of no use here, fists and steel were.

So instead of speaking, Lucian advanced toward the bearded man. He quickly brought up a hand to slap aside an axe swing before stepping into a jab with his right fist. This Greyjoy ducked under Lucian's punch and leaned into a shoulder check. Lucian allowed the blow to connect and let himself be pushed back a step. The momentum of the blow allowed Lucian the force he needed to grab the Greyjoy by the back of his helm and bring his face down to meet his rising knee.

There was a slight crunch as cartilage smashed against the helm's nose guard and the force of the blow send the Greyjoy stumbling backward as his helm was torn from his head.

Despite his disorientated state from taking a knee to the face, the Greyjoy was able to stay coherent enough to throw one of his bearded axes at Lucian.

When the axe impaled into the helm that Lucian had raised to block the weapon's path, the Greyjoy growled in irritation as reached up to his face. Pinching one side of his nose he snorted out a wad of blood before reaching down to withdraw his last hatchet.

Lucian tossed the axe impaled helm over his shoulder. Glancing over the Greyjoy's shoulder, Lucian could see that more and more of the Melee's competitors were falling. The Tully he had spotted earlier was just finishing off a very pompous looking Knight bearing the sigil of a blue falcon; House Arryn.

Steffon, well, he was still bashing his way through a group of unfortunate Hedge-Knights. In a direction that was clearly aimed to bring the Stormlord toward him.

Lucian could not deny the fact that; since Tywin had first introduced the young Lord Paramount of the Stormlands to him, that he had been looking forward to fighting him. He would prefer not to be distracted from that fight.

This Greyjoy was a distraction.

Lucian's feet shifted only minutely in the dirt before he leapt forward into a run. Crossing the gap between the two in a matter of seconds.

When the Ironborn registered the sudden charge he simply narrowed his eyes in focus and stepped into his own attack; swinging out with both of his remaining axes from either side; intended to meet in the middle right at Lucian's unprotected head.

It should have, had Lucian not raised his hands to intercept the swinging blades with his hands; catching them neatly. The bearded man only had time for his eyes to widen and register the impossible sound of metal shattering before he felt all the air in his lungs get forced out and several ribs shatter when Lucian snapped out a heavy kick right into the centre of his chest.

His hands lost their grip with the broken axes and his body was sent flying into the perimeter railing. Wood splintered as he crashed to the ground, not even feeling the shattered barrier falling onto him.

A surprised hush washed over the crowd from the manner in which the Greyjoy lord was quite literally kicked out of the contest, eyes widening and in some cases; coin changing hands.

But Lucian paid no heed to any of that. The moment the Greyjoy had smashed into and through the wooden railing, he had already shifted his focus to his next adversary.

Steffon was still trying to fight his way over to him; the remaining combatants multiple enough to hinder the heavy handed man from advancing too quickly.

The Knight with the Fish crest; the Tully, was his next closest.

The Tully himself appeared ready for Lucian as the Lord of Hearthstone advanced his way. Having already dispatched of his previous opponent and positioned himself squarely with his sword raised in a defensible position.

The stance almost had Lucian slow down in his advance. This was the first man he had seen in this Melee display some actual martial competence. So many other Knights and Sell-swords had behaved more like flailing children, swinging swords like sticks and hiding behind their shields as if they were their mother's skirts.

This man's armor was worn from combat and no longer held the shine and luster that newly forged and polished armor boasted. Lucian's eye could even spot a few areas at the armpits and shins where personal modifications had been made. The sword this Knight was wielding was nothing special, its chipped and scratched surface coupled with the worn and slightly dulled edge made it clear that this was nothing more than a Tourney sword and not the Knight's personal weapon.

A good sign. This gave credence to the idea that before Lucian was a Knight who considered this Melee very akin to a game and thereby not worthy of a sword meant to slay sworn enemies.

Someone worth fighting.

Lucian's eyes glinted with satisfied amusement and his mouth twitched into a matching smile as he raised his arms to hold his hands up in front of him; open palmed and ready for battle.

Unlike the other men that Lucian had thus far 'fought,' he closed the gap to the Knight slowly. Short but rapid steps to close the gap with his hands raised in a read position and eyes keenly watching how this Tully responded to his advance.

There was no fear in the eyes of this Trout. No uncertainty. Only surety in himself as he matched Lucian's actions by advancing.

It was not Lucian who opened things but the Knight of Riverrun. A probing strike to his left came with moderate swiftness and with just enough reach that, if left unchecked could score a surface strike to his unprotected shoulder.

In response Lucian shifted his body, turning so more of his side was facing the Tully he raised his left arm up. A backhanded slap met the testing sword strike, a sharp metallic clang ringing from where dulled Steel met Damascus Steel.

Lucian was already ignoring the deflected strike as he noticed a very subtle shift at Tully's feet and the slightest of shifting from the other man's shoulders.

The deflected sword was flipped around; passing overhead to come down for a right-sided strike. A smart tactic. The initial probing strike had Lucian open the left side of his guard and now another attack was coming in to his right to force him to shift and open that side. Most likely with the ultimate goal of exposing a gap right down the middle for a thrusting strike.

Not a bad opening tactic. Were it not for the fact that Lucian did not need to use his right arm to stop this second, right sided attack.

Moving quick enough to meet the second blow, Lucian snapped his left hand out to catch the end of the sword, wrapping his gauntlet covered hand neatly around the blade.

Before he could truly grab a secure hold of the blade, the Tully quickly retreated a step, pulling his sword free and avoiding the risk of having his weapon snapped in to.

Clearly the Knight had noticed Lucian's earlier feat in shattering the Greyjoy's axe earlier and wished to avoid a similar thing happening to his own blade.

Lucian didn't wait for his opponent to recollect himself and return with another tactic. He stepped forward, maintaining the close proximity between the two and thrust out with his left arm; palm open to try and grab at Tully's sword.

When the Tully saw the grasping thrust he flicked his sword around to the back of Lucian's hand and pushed the blade against the back of his hand, forcing Lucian's grasp to be deflected slightly to the side. Continuing to press forward; the Werewolf forced his armored forearm to meet the Knight's blade. A quick twist of his wrist and Lucian very quickly had his hand wrapped around Tully's sword arm.

A sharp tug brought the surprised Tully forward and off balance. And right into the path of Lucian's clenched right fist.

The Riverrun Knight doubled over Lucian's fist and his eyes bugged out as the power of the blow forced not only the air from his lungs to heave out but spit and bile from his stomach to fly out. His sword slipped from his hands as he collapsed to the ground, curling slightly as he fought to breath in, heaving and gasping to bring air back into his lungs.

Lucian kicked the discarded sword to the side and knelt down to the writhing knight, idly noting out of the corner of his eye an impatiently waiting Baratheon.

"Do you yield?"

The Fish nodded rapidly, wheezing as he started breathing again.

Lucian nodded in reply and rose back to his feet, turning his attention finally to his next and last opponent of this Melee.

It was just the two of them left standing. All thirty-eight of the other combatants had been eliminated and were either leaving under their own power or being bodily dragged out by Tourney Servants and Squires.

"Most impressive my friend!" Steffon boomed as he slammed his Warhammer into the muddied ground. "Ser Brynden Tully has bested many men that have come his way, I am glad to see you not counted amongst them."

Lucian shrugged as he stepped away from the now named Brynden Tully and circled around Steffon.

"And to think that when I saw that you would come with nothing but your fists; I feared I would not be able to face you myself." the Lord of Storms End reached up and pulled free the straps holding his chest piece, stripping it from his body.

Piece by piece, armor and cloth was shed from the young Baratheon until he was clad only in his pants and boots. Even his hammer was tossed to the side to land heavily several feet from the man as he stepped forward, arms stretched out wide.

"When you displayed the strength of your gauntlets to me before I believed that you possessed great strength but little more. I see now that it was skill, not strength, that gave you the courage to come here with nought but hands of iron." Steffon grinned widely, flexing his arms and pumping his fists into the air. "Come then Lucian Blood! Let us test our skill as men do!"

Lucian cocked an eyebrow before nodding in agreement. As far as humans went, Steffon Baratheon was impressive in his size and physical strength. If what he had been able to glimpse out of the corners of his eye as the man had fought earlier, his agility was also notable in spite of that size.

His Wolf Claws, chest piece and cloth padding that had been worn underneath were discarded leaving the two bare chested men to stand against each other.

Steffon barked out a joyous laughter. "Ah my friend! This will be such fun!"

Lucian returned the smile as he brought his fists up into a rough boxing stance, muscles flexing slightly.

"I agree."

XxxX

Tywin held out his cup for a nearby servant to fill as he leaned back in his seat. The Lannister box was prominently placed to watch over the Melee very nearly as good as the Royal Box several feet away which meant that the Lord of Casterly Rock did not have to fight for a view of the proceedings.

He had displayed himself as he had intended in the Archery contest not two days ago. He had won, naturally, and felt that the skill he had displayed with a bow as well as the casual ease in which he had proven his superiority had done its purpose in reminding those watching of the competence and skill of the young Warden of the West.

The five thousand Dragons that he had won from that contest had already been 'invested' to Aerys' Master of Coin in a wager for the victor of the Melee.

"I must say dear brother, I am surprised you would engage in such indulgences as gambling."

Waving away the cup bearer and sparing the briefest of glances into his cup before turning to the woman seated to his right.

"And you would be right to be surprised." The man replied. "I find gambling on probabilities and possibilities to be wasteful risks."

Genna Lannister raised an elegant eyebrow. Young and beautiful, the younger sister of the Lord of Casterly Rock possessed the same golden locks as was known for the Lions of the West that framed her face in graceful curls. With curves that could turn the eye of a eunuch in a dress of red and gold silk that could barely contain her sizeable chest, she was truly the Gem of the Westerlands.

"Then how would you explain placing your winnings on this new bannerman of yours Tywin?"

Tywin afforded his younger sister the smallest of smiles as he held out his wine cup to the Melee ring as the forty men who had signed up to participate entered. "Sell-swords from across the Kingdoms and even as far as Essos, Knights who care more about the polish of their armor than its fit."

"Flowery and foolish they may be, that does not discount the training and quality of their arms." Genna argued as her eyes found the new lord of Castamere, no, Hearthstone. "This Lord Blood of yours has an impressive stature, but he does not even carry a sword."

"And yet, he is better armed than he was when he butchered the dogs that saw fit to assail my dear Joanna." Tywin remarked as he took a sip of his wine. "Nor did he wield a sword when he put Ser Bracken to death during the Kingsguard's Trial by Combat."

Genna looked from the imposing man in the Melee ring over to her brother, green eyes widened in surprise. "That actually happened? I believed it to be nothing more than the wild imaginations of the smallfolk."

There was a collective roar from both the crowd and the Melee itself as the King initiated the event and Genna found herself further speechless when she bore witness to this new lord picked up a Knight; Ser Moryn Tyrell of the Reach if memory served, and bodily threw the man at an unfortunate Sell-sword with all the ease she herself would have in plucking a flower.

When Lord Blood found his next victim in the form of Ser Aenys Frey; the younger brother of her own husband Emmon Frey, she let out a very unladylike snort of amusement when she saw the wretched Frey dropped like a sack of potatoes when Lord Blood punched not only through his shield but into his stomach.

She heard a faint gasp of surprise from behind her, where Tywin had afforded her pathetic husband the 'privilege' of sitting. Hearing his displeasure at seeing his brother brought down so brutally had Genna feeling no small measure of pleasure as she took a sip of her wine, noticing that Tywin himself also seemed to smirk from a similar feeling.

"You see, dear sister." Tywin smiled from behind the shelter of his cup. "I am not one for gambling."

It was as if she were watching a cat play with mice that had found themselves trapped with nowhere to run.

The Lord of the Iron Isles Quellon Greyjoy was summarily ejected from the ring after having one of his axes shattered into pieces from the raw power of Lord Blood's own hands.

Ser Brynden Tully; a Knight of some renown for his part in the War of the Ninepenny Kings fared somewhat better. His display against other Knights and Sell-swords had made clear his skill and experience with a sword which had been something that Genna noticed that the Lord Blood seemed to regard with some small measure of respect in that Ser Brynden was not simply rushed and destroyed like the others that had found themselves facing the giant beast of a man. And when the Knight of the Riverlands was bested, he was presented the opportunity to yield with some honor intact.

When she saw Tywin lean forward in his seat, hands empty of his cup and eyes focused with some intensity as the final two; Lucian Blood and Steffon Baratheon faced one another, Genna had some idea as to the significance of this final bout.

It seemed like nothing more than the arrogance of youth when the Baratheon started stripping himself bare of his armor. Those curious gauntlets that Lord Blood was wearing would make short work of his opponents unprotected chest.

What she did not expect however, was for Lord Blood to mimic the man's actions.

Genna was not an overly critical woman. Her appreciation for the male form was not as limited as others in their lust for hard, muscled bodies. It was the reason why seeing Steffon Baratheon bare chested with all of his massive muscles on display did nothing to stir her.

Lucian Blood's body however, while thinner than the wider Baratheon, was no less toned and muscled. Lean and sculpted as if from stone, Genna did find herself having to wet her lips when she felt her mouth go dry.

"Do try to keep yourself together Sister."

Genna flinched back to reality and looked over to Tywin who was glancing over her way with an amused glint in his eye.

Swallowing and taking a moment to regain her calm she shot her brother a warning look. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean Tywin. I am a married woman after all."

Tywin nodded only slightly as his gaze briefly crossed over to a pale skinned Emmon Frey. "For now."

A loud roar drew the siblings from their banter and back to the Melee field to see a fierce looking Steffon charge at Lord Blood.

It was surprising, how fast the Lord of Storms End was on his feet as he crossed the gap between the two in a matter of moments and Genna could not help but gasp and cover her mouth with her hands as a devastating blow slammed into the side of Lord Blood's face, knocking the man back a step.

When the Baratheon continued forward to press his advantage he found himself knocked back a step when he took a blow to the face in very similar a manner.

For all the power of the blow that Lord Blood had taken, only a tiny trickle of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth from where he seemed to have bitten his tongue.

What followed was very similar to how Genna had always imagined a tavern brawl to be. While impressive to note that Steffon Baratheon seemed sturdy enough to take blows from Lord Blood that could and actually had felled lesser men, what both Lannister siblings took primary notice of, was the fact that for all appearances, Steffon's full might didn't even seem to bother the Lord of Hearthstone at all.

It was the single longest individual bout of the entire Melee as the two traded blows. Steffon had a busted lip and bruises littering his chest, face and arms from where he had been struck while Lucian Blood had only slightly reddened skin, as if he was being merely slapped.

So entranced by this display of strength and endurance was Genna that when Lord Blood delivered a swift uppercut that actually removed Steffon from the ground; she jumped up and joined in with the enraptured roar.

It took Steffon a moment longer to find his feet from that blow, staggering to his feet and from the way he was stumbling, very dazed. When he was able to steady himself he rubbed at his jaw he broke into a roaring laughter.

"I cannot best you my friend!" Steffon roared loudly, amusement and a clear lack of resentment in his voice.

"I yield to you. Lucian Blood; The Iron-hand!"

XxxXxxXxxX

**A/N**

**Alrighty then! It has been _sooooooooooo _long since we have been able to update. The best we can do is apologise to people who have been waiting for updates. Unfortunately for us, COVID, while presenting with lots of free time, had the regretful effect of shutting down the public library where we are able to sit down and write.**

**We tried to find other places to get together to write, even used programs to link our two computers, but we found too many distractions and could not focus on a story well enough to provide anything worthy of posting.**

**But Library is open again so we should be able to resume posting some stuff. Not sure if we will be resuming the schedule as was listed before, but we will work something out.**

**Especially for all those who have been salivating for updates in Zero Chakra Plan. Sorry guys.**

**Now, in regards to this latest chapter. Let it be known that neither of us are very well versed in fighting. What had been written here in regards to the Melee was out best attempt. So if there is issue to be taken. Well, sorry but too bad. We can't really do better in something we have no real understanding of.**

**Just like how we have explained with Blacksmithing, we don't know it, but we try out best to make it seem as legit and/or realistic as we can manage.**

**Hope this was worth the obscene wait and is enjoyed.**

**Cheers.**


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